


Levi's Moving Castle

by Siggy1998



Category: Howl no Ugoku Shiro | Howl's Moving Castle, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, F/M, M/M, Romance, Sarcastic Levi, my babies are sarcastic assholes, references to the Diana Wynne Jones novel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siggy1998/pseuds/Siggy1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the land of Ingary there exists a famous castle which moves through the Wastes. This castle is said to be home to Reaper, one of the most powerful wizards in the country who has a reputation for eating the hearts of attractive people. Levi, the main hat trimmer of the Ackerman family hat shop and a thirty-one-year-old bachelor, really couldn't care less about that legend until the the Witch of the Waste curses him with only one year to live. Setting out into the Wastes, he comes across the famous castle and its motley crew of inhabitants. There's Eren, Wizard Reaper's teenage apprentice; Jean, a fire demon who isn't very content with his job; Reaper himself, a tall, confident man; and a nameless girl with a biting tongue who only seems to come out at night. Levi instates himself as the castle's housekeeper with the goal of breaking the curse on Jean and Reaper so that the fire demon can break the curse that is on him. Toss in a brewing war, a scarecrow that won't go away, a boy trapped in a dog's body, a wizard manhunt, and the possibility that Levi may be falling in love, and our hero simply wants the curse to take him.</p>
<p>Alternately: There's a wizard keeping secrets and Levi's done with his shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I'm an Asshole, and You're an Asshole, Then Who's Flying Us Over This Parade?

            I sat on a stool in the alcove, a nook off the living room with a wooden counter and a large window overlooking the city. Beyond the city the Wastes were visible, green rolling hills and far-off forests populated by evil witches and wizards. On my counter sat stacks of plain felt hats and tins of beads, spools of thread, scissors, a can of assorted needles, thread wax, jars of buttons, boxes of feathers, and other various hat-making accoutrement. Several head mannequins donning finished hats lined the windowsill. My sisters all sat in the other room around a large worktable, a pile of hats lying forgotten in the center of the table as they chatted about God knew what. All I knew was that they were loud, but I didn’t quite have the energy to get up and close the door to my alcove.

            The sound of the front door opening met my ears and my sisters jumped up from their seats.

            “Mother!” they all cried.

            “Hey, girls!” my mother’s voice chirped from the front door. Clicks of high heels against the wood floor, and my mother’s figure was suddenly visible from the alcove’s open door. She wore a long yellow dress and an outlandish hat embellished with plumes too large for it.

            “I love your hat!” exclaimed Krista.

            “It’s beautiful,” agreed Sasha, though her words were a bit garbled from the bread she was stuffing in her mouth.

            “It’s all the rage in the Capitol,” my mother explained, twirling around to show off the hat. Her skirt fanned out around her legs and exposed the bottom of her white petticoat. “Our customers will love it! We’ll make dozens! That reminds me – where’s Levi?”

            I sighed quietly as I saw Annie gesture towards my alcove. My mother turned and her face lit up. She dropped the hatboxes she was holding onto the table and hurried into the alcove, enveloping me in a warm hug.

            “Hello, Mother,” I said, resting my chin against her shoulder.

            “I missed you, my beautiful boy,” she said, pulling back to look at me.

            “I’m glad you’re back.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t like I had told her that I had missed her.

            “Did you see the hat?” she asked, removing it from her head and placing it in front of me on the counter.

            “How could I miss it?” I asked dryly, staring at it.

            “Isn’t it beautiful?” she squealed.

            “No,” I said.

            “ _No?_ ” she asked incredulously. “It’s gorgeous! The customers will love it.”

            “I don’t doubt that they’ll love it. I just think it’s a monstrosity.”

            She looked at me and gave a disapproving shake of her head, picking up the hat and somewhat dejectedly placing it back on her head. She still had a small amused smile on her lips.

            “Well, you’ll just have to get over it, because I need you to make several along the same vein.”

            “It shall be done,” I said.

            She ruffled my hair and pranced out of the alcove, back to my sisters.

            “It’s five o’clock, girls! Let’s get out of here,” suggested Mina.

            “Let’s,” said Annie, standing from her seat and pushing in her chair. The rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur until:

            “The parade is in town. We could- Oh my God!”

            “What is it?”

            “It’s Reaper’s Castle!”

            The girls, including my mother, all raced to the living room window. I looked out the window in my alcove and stared out into the Wastes. I saw nothing for a moment, but then a cloud dissipated to reveal a strange lumbering apparatus trudging over a hill. I had never seen it before, but I knew enough of local lore to know what it was.

            Reaper’s Castle was home to the Wizard Reaper, a formidable wizard gone rogue. He was supposedly one of the most powerful wizards in all of Ingary and had a reputation for eating attractive people’s hearts, regardless of whether they belonged to men or women.

            “We better be careful out there,” said Annie.

            “You don’t need to worry, Annie,” said Sasha. “Reaper only goes after _pretty_ girls!”

            Annie turned around and slapped Sasha on the shoulder. The girl laughingly pushed the last of her bread into her mouth and went to get her coat. I looked back down at the half-finished hat in my hands and reached over to grab another bead.

            “You should come with us this time, Levi,” someone said. I looked up to see Petra leaning against the alcove’s doorframe, a coat slung over her shoulders and a small purse clutched in her hands. “It would be fun.”

            “I’m fine,” I said. “You girls go out and have fun. Do whatever girls do together.”

            “You’re thirty-one years old, Levi. How are you going to find a nice girl if you’re cooped up in this hat shop all the time?”

            I shook my head.

            “You know that I don’t need anyone, Petra. Besides, I’m the oldest. It’s my responsibility to keep the hat shop alive after Mother’s gone.”

            Petra sighed and shook her head in the same way that my mother had when I told her the hat was ugly.

            “When are you going to do something for yourself for once?” she asked, a small smile on her face and sadness in her eyes.

            “I do things for myself,” I said, looking down to stitch a bead to the hat in my hands. “I enjoy trimming hats. And I read and write. And I cook good meals for myself.”

            “That’s not what I meant.”

            I knew, but I didn’t acknowledge it. She sighed again and bid me farewell before her footsteps picked up and disappeared.

            I stared down at the hat I held before pushing the needle back through the felt. I lifted my hands above the counter and let the hat fall onto it, sighing as I heard the plop of the felt against the wood. I sighed again and pushed my palms into my eyes. When I dropped my hands and opened my eyes again the castle was gone from the Wastes, probably having disappeared behind a wisp of fog. The front door clicked closed and I was alone.

            “I fucking hate trimming hats,” I said to myself.

            I slid off of my stool and untied my apron from around my waist, hanging the fabric on a peg on the wall. After unrolling my sleeves and buttoning the cuffs I turned off the light, slid on my coat, and pocketed the key. I took one last look at the workroom before I turned and walked out of the door, locking it behind me and stepping out into the world.

            The parade was indeed in town. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant because I never paid much attention to politics or current events, but I did know that there were soldiers in the parade. It was probably sent from the Capitol City to garner support for a battle and to boost the soldiers’ morale. Whatever it meant, it was getting in my way. The bakery where my sister Isabel worked was directly across the road from the hat shop; however, the parade marched along said street. I would have to go the long way, which involved weaving through crowds of delighted parade-goers and winding along backroads until I could pass under the road. I hastily pushed my way past the crowds – an endeavor that was much easier than I had thought it would be – and into the street beside the shop. Once in the alley I began waking between the buildings towards the belowground passage. I took several turns throughout my journey, but one particular turn brought me face-to-face (or, because I was so regrettably short, face-to-chest) with two soldiers.

            I could tell from their uniforms that they weren’t in the militia; these were members of the guard, tasked with keeping the peace in the already peaceful town of Market Chipping. That explained why they weren’t in the parade, but it didn’t explain why they were looking at me so lewdly.

            “Well, look who we have here,” said one of the guards. He had a large unkempt mustache and red hair. “Short but broad. Just my type.”

            I furrowed my brows.

            “Look. I’m exhausted,” I said. “I just want to go see my sister.”

            The other guard laughed and nudged the first with his shoulder.

            “Your mustache weirds all the cute ones out,” he chuckled. I let out an annoyed huff of air.

            “Just let me by,” I told them. “I don’t want any trouble.”

            “ _You_ might not want any trouble, but trouble is _our_ shared middle name,” said the one with the mustache. He flashed me a wry grin.

            “To what are you referring?” I asked dryly.

            “The two of us like to… have fun together, sweetheart,” the clean-shaven guard said with a wink. “We’re starting to get adventurous and want to add another variable to the bedroom.”

            “I’m not too keen on having a cock up my ass, so if you would please let me by-“

            “No can do, sweet cheeks,” clucked the mustached one. The other guard made to grab me by the bicep, but he never made it.

            Instead there was an arm draping around my shoulders and a large pale hand wrapping around the soldier’s wrist.

            “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, brother,” a deep voice said beside me. I looked up to see the voice’s owner.

            He was a remarkably tall man with closely-cropped black hair and pale blue eyes that were trained on the guards in front of me. He wore a black jacket over his shoulders, a blousy white shirt, slim black trousers, and shiny leather shoes that came to a blunt point at the toe. His expression was friendly enough, but his eyes were ice, and not only in color.

            “I’d appreciate if you’d leave my brother alone,” the man said.

            He was far taller than both of the guards (he had to be closer to seven feet than to six), and that, coupled with his unbelievably handsome face, made for an intimidating picture. The soldiers swallowed and backed up a couple of steps.

            “This is your brother?” one asked me as evenly as possible.

            Now I had never seen my supposed brother in my life. I didn’t even _have_ a brother, but I knew that he was trying to scare off my potential attackers, so I played along.

            “Can’t you see the resemblance?” I scoffed.

            “We were just trying to help him find his way to his sister,” the mustached guard lied badly. “We were going to escort him there. You know, someone as short as him might-“

            “Actually, I think you were just leaving,” said the man. He tossed the fingers of the hand not on my shoulder and the guards immediately stiffened, standing straight up with impeccable, soldier-like postures.

            “What? What’s going on?” asked the clean-shaven one frantically. “I’m not doing this by myself!”

            “I’m not either!”

            The man smirked and flicked his fingers again. The guards’ legs began moving of their own accord, stiff and unbending. He moved me out of the way and let the soldiers pass. They marched out of sight, all the while yelling and grunting obscenities about how they couldn’t control their movements. We were lucky that the noise of the parade disguised their noises of distress.

            Once they were out of sight the man turned to me, removing his arm from my shoulder and stepping a respectful distance away.

            “The guy with the dead animal on his face was right,” he said. I held back a snort at the description. “It’s not safe for someone as short as you to be wandering alleys alone, especially with a war brewing.”

            “I don’t need your help if that’s what you’re insinuating,” I said dryly, a little pissed that he would mention my height. “I can take care of myself.”

            “I don’t doubt that you could take care of yourself in a fist fight, but not many people are relying on their fists anymore.”

            “Look,” I said darkly. “I appreciate what you did for me back there, but I think I can get to my sister’s bakery by myself. I don’t need an escort.”

            “I’m not a fucking escort service,” he snapped. I was a bit surprised, but then he took a deep breath to calm himself down. “I’m merely a man who wants to help.”

            “And I’m a man who wants you to fuck off. Goodbye.”

            I turned and was about to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder, this time much firmer. I fleetingly thought that I might have been better off dealing with the guards than with him.

            “What do you want now?” I growled, turning.

            He wasn’t looking at me. Instead he was staring down the adjoining alley, the alley from where I had just come. His jaw was incredibly tight, pushing out a faint scar on his jaw.

            “I think you might want to rethink my offer,” he said lowly.

            I leaned back to see what he was staring at and immediately wished I hadn’t. Oozing from the alley’s brick walls were humanoid creatures composed of a black viscous substance not unlike tar. They all wore green military jackets with gold epaulettes and were rapidly approaching the man and me.

            “What the fuck-“ I began, but he cut me off by grabbing my wrist and pulling me into the next alley.

            “I’m being followed-“

            “You’re being followed and you offer to escort me to the bakery?”

            “Shut up for a second. I’m being followed and it looks like you’re involved.”

            “Why am I involved?”

            “I talked for you for too long.”

            “Oh. Great. I’m ecstatic.”

            The man dug his bitten nails into my wrist and glared at me, pulling me along faster.

            “ _Ow_ ,” I said.

            “That’s what you get for being a dick.”

            “What happened to the gentlemanly manner back there?”

            “It tends to go away when there are shit monsters after you.”

            I cringed.

            “Are they actually made of shit?” I asked.

            “Not that I know of, though I wouldn’t put it past her.”

            “Her?”

            He looked like he was about to answer, but he was interrupted by the sight of more shit monsters dripping through the walls ahead of us. The man’s grip on my wrist disappeared, and he replaced it by placing his arm back around my shoulders.

            “Brace yourself,” he warned me.

            “What’s about to happen?” I asked, though I thought the question was stupid. I was certain we were about to get smothered by black goop, but, again, he surprised me.

            “We’re going up.”

            He grabbed my hand with his free one and pushed off the ground, rocketing up into the air and above the rooftops. I slammed my eyes closed and brought my knees up to my chest.

            “Open your eyes,” I heard.

            I obeyed instinctively, amazed to find that we were hovering over the shit monsters in the alley. Their heads were angled up to look at us, and even though they had no eyes I could tell they were angry.

            “Straighten your legs,” he swallowed. “We’re going to start walking.”

            “ _Walking?_ ” I asked. “We’re in the fucking sky, if you haven’t noticed.”

            “And I’m a wizard, if you haven’t noticed. Trust me.”

            “You led those shit monsters to me. Why should I trust you?”

            “Just straighten your legs.”

            “Fine.”

            I slowly lowered my feet until they were even with his, his grip on my hand tightening.

            “Now start walking.”

            He reached out one long leg and I followed, astounded to find that it was just like walking on solid ground minus a bit of gravity.

            We walked several steps before he spoke again, his voice a bit strained.

            “You’re a natural,” he swallowed. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, spit at him, or just let go and fall to my death. “The first time I did this I almost died.”

            “What’s with your voice?”

            “I still feel like I’m going to die.”

            “You’re scared of heights,” I said. “Of fucking course. The flying wizard is scared of heights.”

            “I can drop you.”

            “That might be preferable.”

            “Here you go, then.”

            “No! No, no. That was a joke.”

            “That’s what I thought.”

            We stepped off a church spire and propelled ourselves forward. We were silent as we passed over the parade and, eventually, the bakery rooftop.

            “This is the bakery,” I said, gesturing to the building with my foot.

            “Looks like we’re going down, then.”

            Without any warning whatsoever we dropped like rocks, only stopping when we were level with the bakery’s second-floor balcony. I glared at the man and he looked like he was going to be sick. I suddenly felt a little better. Karma, bitch.

            He let me float down onto the balcony before he stood on the railing and looked down at me.

            “Thank you, oh mighty one,” I scoffed.

            “I could have left you to die back there.”

            “Maybe you should have. I wouldn’t have had to deal with your shit if I were dead.”

            “Don’t joke about death with a wizard, _sweetheart_ ,” he said with a glare. “I can make it happen very easily.”

            I tried to conceal my nervous gulp by coughing. He looked over his shoulder at the street below.

            “I think we’ve lost them, but I still wouldn’t go outside for at least fifteen minutes. I’ll try and draw the rest of them off,” he said.

            “You do that.”

            “You’re a huge asshole, just so you know.”

            “Choke on a dick.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodbye.”

            He leaned back and plummeted. When I leaned over the railing I couldn’t see him anywhere, instead finding myself looking down into a crowd of faceless parade-goers.


	2. I'm Afraid You Have a Severe Case of... Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch of the Wastes curses Levi, so our hero sets out into the Wastes to find Reaper's castle. He succeeds.

            “You’ve got to be more careful,” Isabel said, her tone scolding but not scathing.

            We sat in the bakery’s back room on a couple of spare crates, more crates stacked behind us in a kind of wooden mountain. I had just gotten through telling her the story of how I had been rescued and then pissed off by a handsome wizard, and she was not amused.

            “I could have taken him,” I offered, even though I knew it wasn’t true. “I was in the military for five years, after all.”

            “But you don’t have magic. You’re not nearly as strong as someone with magic.”

            I knew.

            “He tried to be kind to me,” I said, looking down at my feet and clasping my hands together.

            “All the sneaky ones do,” said my sister. “For all you know that could have been the Witch of the Waste in disguise. Or Reaper! He could have eaten your heart, Levi.”

            I scoffed.

            “Reaper only eats the hearts of attractive people, Izzy.” Isabel groaned and tipped her head back.

            “Don’t do this now. Now is not the time for your body issues.”

            “Wow. It’s almost like my mental illness affects my brain and therefore every aspect of my life.”

            She smiled at that, nudging me with her elbow. I pushed back and she leaned her head on my shoulder.

            “I wish I could help you, big bro,” she sighed.

            “You already do,” I said, placing my chin on the crown of her head.

            Just then a crate from the wall pulled back and a face poked through the empty space.

            “Isabel! The eclairs are done!” called Farlan, Isabel’s best friend from the bakery.

            “I’ll be there in a minute!” she called back, raising her head from my shoulder. Farlan nodded and placed the crate back into its slot. Isabel turned her head back to face me. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”

            “It’s fine,” I said.

            She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, the hem of her dress rising to show the bottoms of her calves.

            “I’ll see you at home, bro,” she said.

            “See you at home.”

            She smiled brightly and skipped out of the door, leaving me alone in the store room.

            Several minutes later I stood outside the bakery with Isabel poking her head out of the door.

            “Be careful,” she said.

            “I will,” I responded. “I promise.”

            She nodded and went back inside. I turned around and began walking away from the bakery.

            I eventually made it to the trolley station and took the trolley back to the shop, coming to the front door and inserting the key into the lock. I swung open the door and entered the shop. Before I did anything else I closed the door behind me and turned the deadbolt, making sure that no one else could come in. I crossed the room to the front counter and took a match from the box beside the oil lamp, then lit the lamp and watched as the room was illuminated by soft golden light. I was about to go to the back room to retrieve several finished hats to replace the ones we had sold that day when I heard the bell on the front door chime. Turning around I saw a rather large woman enter the shop.

            _That stupid fucking door_ , I thought. _I know I locked it_.

            When I said “large” I meant it – the woman was at least six feet tall and fat enough that several fat rolls cascaded from her neck and over her chest. She wore a large feathery hat, a long black dress with plumes along the hem, and a strange pair of glasses whose leather head strap split into thirds on the back of her head. Her hair was almost completely hidden beneath the monstrous hat, but what I could see was brown and unkempt. She looked around the shop and made a strange, haughty little noise.

            “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the shop’s closed. You’re going to have to come back tomorrow,” I said.

            She didn’t respond; instead she made another haughty noise.

            “What a tacky little shop with such tacky little hats,” she said. I felt myself bristle. Even if I hated trimming hats I still took pride in my work. “But you, by far, are the tackiest thing here.”

            “Oi, glasses,” I barked. “The shop’s closed, so get out before I kick you out.”

            She paused, then slowly turned her head to face me.

            “Standing up to the Witch of the Waste,” she chuckled. “That’s plucky.”

            Shit.

            The Witch of the Waste had been on the prowl for at least ten years and was well known as one of the most powerful – if not _the_ most powerful – magician in Ingary. She was known, like Reaper, for having a fixation with hearts. Unlike Reaper, however, she also had a reputation for cursing those who crossed her. And I had just crossed her.

            _Shit._

            “It doesn’t matter if you’re the Witch of the Waste, shitty glasses,” I said lowly, even though I was scared out of my mind. “Get out of my fucking shop.”

            “You really are a stupid little boy.”

            “Don’t call me that. I’m thirty-one years old.”

            She chuckled again, dark and smoky and full and something else that made shivers run down my spine.

            “Thirty-one you say,” she mused, glancing down at her painted nails. She looked back up at me. “Then thirty-two is all you’ll live to.”

            She suddenly rushed at me. It wasn’t running; rather, she glided towards me at a breakneck speed as she thrust out the sleeve of her dress. She became increasingly translucent before passing over me, _through_ me, and I felt myself go cold, like icy water was running through my veins and pumping through my heart. I hunched in on myself and slammed my eyes shut.

            The next time I heard her voice it came from the front door.

            “You now have exactly one year to live, sweetie,” she said, a deep, low laughter bubbling from her chest. “And the best part of that curse is you can’t tell anyone about it.”

            The sounds of the door opening, the bell chiming, and the door closing met my ears. I was alone.

            I opened my eyes, heart beating wildly inside of my chest, and stood up straight. Looking over at the door I ran my hands over my face.

            “It’s not real,” I murmured into my palms. “You’re just tired, Levi.”

            I moved my hands up into my hair and tangled my fingers in the black strands. I pulled, turning to my right as I did so. When I made the full turn I faced a mirror which was usually used by patrons to examine how hats looked perched upon their heads. I was terrified that I would look like an old man – wrinkles and grey hair and droopy eyes – or that I would have some identifying mark in the middle of my forehead, but, thankfully, neither an old man nor a man with a tattoo on his forehead was reflected on the surface of the mirror. Just a frazzled-looking thirty-one-year-old man with his hands fisted in his hair. I suddenly felt a sharp prick on my left forearm, somewhere near the crook of my elbow. I quickly unbuttoned my cuff and pushed up my sleeve.

            I watched in horror as black lines began swirling around my elbow, eventually coming to a stop in the shapes of three neat characters stamped onto the upper part of my forearm.

            365.

            I pinched my wrist and winced. I blinked several times as well, but to no avail. I was awake. This wasn’t a dream.

            “I’ve got to stay calm,” I said, though I sounded anything but calm as I pushed my sleeve down over my arm. “I’ve got to stay calm.”

            I spent the next several hours pacing frantically around the hat shop, first trying to convince myself that this was all a dream, then telling myself that it was just a joke, then, finally, trying to relax my facial muscles and at least look like nothing was out of the ordinary. I eventually just shook my head and blew out the lamp, leaving to go to my room in our adjoining house. Maybe it would all just be a bad dream when I woke up.

___

            It wasn’t a fucking dream.

            The first thing I did when I woke up that morning was push up my left sleeve, and the first things I saw when I woke up that morning were three dark numbers reading “365.” I flung my legs over the side of my bed and ran my hands restlessly through my hair, staying in that position for a good half hour before I could force myself to get ready for my day. That meant that I was around thirty minutes late in getting to the shop, which meant my mother was worried.

            There was a knock at the door.

            “Levi?” my mother’s muffled voice came through the door. “Are you alright in there? You’re late opening the shop.”

            “I’m fine,” I said quietly, then coughed.

            “What was that?”

            “I’m fine,” I repeated, this time louder. “I’ve just got a cold and a headache. I don’t think I can get to the shop today.”

            I wasn’t sure why I lied about that. Maybe I was scared someone would see the black numbers through my white shirt; but my shirts were thick and opaque. Maybe I was worried that I’d act strangely around my family; but I was the master of blank faces. Maybe I just needed some time to myself. I rubbed my neck and looked out of the window. Reaper’s castle was stumbling about over a green hill in the Wastes, smoke billowing out of its many chimneys.

            That was when it came to me.

            “Alright, sweetheart,” said my mother’s voice. “Get better. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

            “Okay.”

            When her footsteps disappeared I propelled myself off the bed and launched myself to my dresser. Pulling open a drawer I got out two sets of clothes, putting one set on and reserving the other for my pack. I dug into the back of my bottom dresser drawer to find my military backpack before stuffing the spare clothes inside it. I hooked my fingers into my empty shoes and, bare-footed, tiptoed out of my room and into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen I stole a loaf of bread, a knife, and a wheel of cheese. I put those in the backpack alongside my spare outfit.

            I couldn’t stay in the hat shop and wait to die. I was the oldest; I needed to take over the business when my mother was gone, and I couldn’t do that if I croaked before she did. I had to find someone to break my curse. The Witch of the Wastes was a very powerful witch, and the only person with magical abilities known to rival hers was Reaper. It was only logical that I would seek him out as a curse-breaker.

            Logical, but undeniably stupid.

___

            I ended up hitching a ride out of Market Chipping on the back of a hay wagon, the straw scratching my back and the wood planks of the wagon nearly sending splinters through my pants. Once at the border of the Wastes I hopped off the wagon and headed out into the hills.

            There was, oddly enough, a dirt road that lead through the Wastes, and I trekked along it for most of the day, mostly uphill. By the time it was nearing dark I was hungry and exhausted, so I sat down on the side of the road and dug out the knife, bread, and cheese from my backpack. I sliced off some bread and cheese and ate them together. I was so hungry that it tasted like heaven.

            As I chewed on a large bite I looked around me. There was the edge of a forest nearby, as well as hills upon green rolling hills. At the edge of the forest I saw a clump of freshly fallen branches with a long empty stick of a branch sticking out of the leaves.

            _That would make a good walking stick_ , I thought to myself, remembering my stiff knees that indicated I wasn’t as young as I liked to pretend I was. I pushed the rest of my food into my mouth before shoving the leftovers back into my pack, then I pressed on my stiff knees to stand up. Once upright I slid on my backpack and began walking over to the branch.

            I reached the edge of the forest and the pile of leaves with the stick poking out. It was unextraodinary in every way, so I didn’t think much was going to come out of it when I pressed down on the end of the branch. When I pressed down nothing happened. The branch was stuck.

            “ _Fuck off_ ,” I muttered, irritated. I pushed down again, and again, and again, and that time the opposite end of the branch broke through the large clump of leaves. Much to my surprise the other end of the branch wasn’t a plain stick. On the pole, as I soon realized it was, was a well-dressed scarecrow with a turnip for a head.

            I dropped the branch in surprise, but the scarecrow didn’t fall. Instead it planted its single foot (I guessed you could call the end of the pole a foot) down onto the ground in front of me and stood up straight. It was probably around ten feet tall and quite innocuous. Friendly-looking, even.

            “How in the fuck are you standing up by yourself?” I asked it, realizing how stupid I sounded talking to a scarecrow. There was no one else around, so I didn’t feel embarrassed.

            The turnip-headed scarecrow gave no response. It wasn’t like I was surprised.

            “You’re head’s a turnip,” I said unhelpfully, feeling, for some reason, like I had to make conversation with this thing that wouldn’t talk back. “I’ve always hated turnips. Ever since I was a kid.”

            No response, as was expected. I rubbed one hand over my tired eyes and turned away.

            “At least you’re standing on your own now. Have a nice life,” I said to Turnip Head as I walked away from him. Her. It.

            I walked for about a minute before I realized that there was an incessant tapping sound behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Turnip Head several paces behind me. I groaned.

            “Don’t feel indebted to me. I thought you were a branch and I was going to use your pole as a walking stick. Purely selfish.”

            I turned back around and began walking, but the tapping sound continued. I faced Turnip Head again.

            “Just go find a field and fucking stand in it!” I commanded.

            He seemed to understand because he pivoted on his pole and went off down the road. I sighed and ran my hand over my face again. I was so tired.

            “Alright,” I said to myself. “Up we go.”

            I continued walking uphill for about five minutes (it was a big fucking hill) before a distant tapping broke me out of my thoughts. I groaned again and turned around to see Turnip Head coming up the road. He had something hooked over his outstretched arm.

            “What did I say about that field?”

            He didn’t stop. Instead he continued hopping along until he stood right in front of me. Suddenly a sizable stick with a small hooked knob on the end dropped down from his arm and embedded itself in the ground before me. I looked back up at him.

            “Is this for me?”

            The scarecrow, obviously, gave no reply.

            “Thank you,” I said. “If you really want to do something else for me you could find me a place to stay.”

            He immediately hopped off, pole tapping relentlessly on the dirt surface of the road until he was out of sight. I smirked to myself.

            _Not necessarily cunning, but effective nonetheless_ , I thought, congratulating myself on my manipulation of the scarecrow.

            I continued walking for several minutes, but I stopped when I heard a low rumbling, creaking noise. The ground shook slightly, like something gigantic was walking along the Wastes. I saw the top of a chimney poke over the edge of the hill and I almost swore before I realized this was what I had set out to find.

            Turnip Head came over the hill, leading Reaper’s moving castle directly towards me. I nodded towards the scarecrow but he only smiled his permanently-painted, toothy smile at me, hat sitting straight on his vegetable head.

            As I got a closer look at the castle I hesitated to call it such. It was made up of moldy, mossy, rusty scrap metal and broken glass, screws and bolts in odd places and an unbelievably number of windows. The place was huge, but it was far from the palace it appeared to be from my alcove in Market Chipping.

            There was a protruding bit in what looked to be the anus of the castle, a door and little concrete slab sticking out of it. I assumed that this was the entrance to the castle. Thing. Place. As the castle passed over Turnip Head and me (the thing’s legs were tall, at least twenty feet in height) I waited for the door to come into range.

            The castle seemed to know I was coming and crouched down after it was sure it wouldn’t crush me. I quickly hopped onto the concrete slab before handing my overly large walking stick back to Turnip Head.

            “Thank you,” I said again. “You’ve been a great help to me.”

            He only smiled and hopped in place several times. I turned around, smiling slightly at how happy he seemed, and opened the castle door.

            Inside was no better than the outside. As I closed the door behind me and ascended the steps I saw clutter and cobwebs and crust and other c words for disgusting things. There were dusty open books on a large table and exposed food and spiders hanging from the beams on the ceiling. Every available flat surface was covered with books and potions and papers and pens, the floor was crunchy with globs of dirt, and the fireplace was absolutely full of unswept ashes. I did something akin to a sigh with a shudder and tried to ignore it all. I was too tired.

            I made my way over to the fireplace and sat in a chair that had been squarely positioned in front of it. I sighed in relief, glad to finally be off my aching feet. Staring into the fire I felt almost at peace. It would have been better if I wasn’t anxious about trespassing into the house of one of the most powerful wizards in Ingary.

            As I gazed into the fire I saw two little eyes rise out of the flames, wide and staring at me. I was slightly taken aback.

            “What the hell?” I asked no one in particular.

            “That’s a nasty curse you’ve got on you, man,” the fire said from an opening in the flames that functioned as a mouth.

            “Tell me about it,” I scoffed. “You must be a fire demon.”

            “I am an _extremely_ powerful fire demon named Jean,” it said. “And _you_ are an intruder.”

            “How astute of you.”

            “I’m very close to getting Eren down here to kick you out.”

            “Don’t,” I said. “I’m… I need-“

            “Let me guess. You came here to get Reaper to break the curse that’s on you.”

            “Correct.”

            “I don’t know how well that’s going to work out. Reaper’s good, incredible, but he’s a little… I don’t know how to put this. He’s nice, but he’s a bit abrasive. Plus, that’s a really bad curse. A year to live is one of the worst there is.”

            “You’re a demon, though. _You_ should be able to break my curse.”

            “Of course _I_ can,” he said a bit smugly, like he was proud that he could do something that Reaper couldn’t. “But how do I know I can trust you? You just wandered in here from the Wastes. You could be an evil wizard for all I know.”

            “If you’re able to sense the curse on me then you should be able to tell that I don’t have any magic abilities.”

            “Your intentions could be evil regardless of whether you’re a wizard or not.”

            “Look, I’m not here for death. I’m here for the opposite of that. What use would I have for Reaper if he were dead?”

            Two little lumps of flame beside Jean’s fiery head rose and fell. It must have been what the fire demon considered a shrug.

            “You could still steal his magic secrets and sell them to the King. Reaper’s got some pretty big secrets.”

            “If I _were_ to steal his shit then I would do it after you helped me. You’d have time to kick me out before I did anything.”

            “Fair enough,” said Jean.

            “So will you help me?”

            “I don’t work for free.”

            I sighed.

            “What do you want?” I asked. “I’m willing to give just about anything at this point.”

            “I’m basically a slave in this house,” he said. “Reaper and I made an agreement a while back and I want out, but the agreement was sealed with a curse. If you can break the curse that’s on us, I’ll break the curse that’s on you.”

            “Deal,” I said quickly. “What are the details of this curse?”

            “That’s the catch,” he said. “I’m kind of… sworn to secrecy about it.”

            “You’re fucking with me,” I said. “How do you expect me to-“

            “You seem like a smart guy. If you stay long enough you can probably figure it out, especially if you get close to Reaper.”

            “And how am I going to get close to one of the most powerful and dangerous wizards in all of Ingary when I’m an absolute asshole?”

            “Slow down. He’s not so dangerous. Well, I guess he’s _capable_ of being dangerous and he _is_ going a bit too far with his – never mind. He’s a nice guy. He’s not going to curse you for being a dick or anything.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I’ve lived with him for four years. Plus, if he curse people for being dicks I’d be dead a thousand times over.”

            “Can fire demons die?”

            “I’m not going to answer that.”

            “Probably a good call,” I said, trying and failing to fight back a yawn. “So how am I going to convince Reaper to let me stay here long enough to break the curse?”

            “Like I said, you’re a smart guy. Figure it out yourself.”

            I yawned again.

            “Fine,” I capitulated. “I’ll come up with something. But for now I need to sleep. I’ve been walking for hours.”

            “You smell like it.”

            “Fuck you.”

            “I’ll burn your dick off if you do.”

            We gave each other some fairly nasty looks before I yawned again. I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms.

            “Sleep tight, dickwad,” said the fire demon.

            “Ditto,” I said exhaustedly.

            I was asleep before I closed my eyes.


	3. This Place Is an Absolute Dump and Yet I'm Eating Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi meets Eren and Reaper over bacon and eggs.

            I awoke the next morning to several loud bangs on the front door. My head popped painfully up (I had, apparently, slept with it tilted back over the back of the chair) and throbbed at the sudden movement. The throbbing almost drowned out the sound of racing footsteps pounding down the stairs. I quickly pretended to be asleep again and listened as an unfamiliar man’s voice asked “who is this guy?”

            More pounding on the door.

            “I’m coming!” called another man with a rougher voice as he ran over to the door.

“It’s the Porthaven door!” called Jean from his home in the dirty fireplace.

            “Got it,” said the first man. There was the sound of rustling fabric, a ding, and then the door opening. I couldn’t help myself, so I cracked one eye open to see what was going on.

            The place was even filthier in the daylight, but that, surprisingly, wasn’t what caught my attention. What really caught my attention was the view out of one of the front windows. Instead of seeing the barren foggy landscape of the early-morning Wastes I saw a bustling sea port with an impossibly blue body of water glistening in the distance.

            “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” the crackly voice asked. I looked down at the door to the castle and realized that it was the same man, but he was putting on a fake tone. There was a small red-haired girl in the doorway holding a piece of paper.

            “My mom sent me to pick up a spell,” the child replied.

            I got up, unable to contain myself, and strode over to the window. I placed my palms on the window sill and looked out at the distant ocean, the water dotted with vessels with little white sails.

            “What’s your mother’s name?” asked the man in his fake voice.

            “Susan Lindy,” said the girl.

            “Ah, yes. I remember that spell. Come in.”

            I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I realized that I was going to have to face the man soon, but I assuaged myself by staring out at the water. I never thought that water could be so captivating.

            Two sets of footsteps ascended the stairs. I looked over my shoulder and watched as the man – he was taller than me with a large gray beard and a long blue cloak obscuring most of his body – leafed through a book to find the spell that the girl had come to fetch. The child stood beside him and peered at the writing on the pages, then began looking around the filthy castle. When her eyes landed on me she froze.

            “Are you a wizard, too?” she asked me in her high-pitched voice.

            “No,” I said. “Much worse. I’m a hat trimmer.”

            She smiled up at me and giggled and my heart melted a little bit. I’d never tell anyone, but I had a soft spot for children. Well-behaved ones, at least. The man got her attention and placed a paper bag in her small hands.

            “Place this spell on your boat and the winds will favor it,” he said.

            “Thank you!” chirped the child before waving goodbye to the both of us. She traipsed down the stairs and out of the open door, closing it as she left. The moment she was gone the man whipped off his disguise, beard disappearing as he flung the cloak from his body. His bright green eyes were menacing as he stood with his fists clenched.

            “Who are you and what do you want?” he asked. I spared a glance over at Jean who just flickered unhelpfully.

            “My name is Levi. I’m your cleaning lady,” I said. I almost winced. _Cleaning lady?_ I wasn’t even a lady, and I certainly didn’t want to clean this fucking place.

            “We don’t have a housekeeper,” said the man. I now saw that he was just a boy, perhaps eighteen, with tan skin and those stupidly green eyes that would make anyone who could experience romantic attraction swoon.

            “Jean hired me yesterday,” I said quickly. Perhaps I said it _too_ quickly, but the boy didn’t seem to notice. He was still suspicious of me, even going so far as to stand a little closer to wear a wrought-iron candlestick stood on a sideboard. He looked over his shoulder at the fire demon.

            “Is that true?” he asked. I glared at Jean while the boy was distracted.

            “No, Eren. I’d let just anyone in from the Wastes,” he scoffed.

            “Fuck you, flame brain,” spat the boy. Eren.

            “Same to you,” the fire demon flung back. “The scarecrow brought him in from the Wastes and he asked for a job so I gave him one. He doesn’t have any magic and he’s not polite enough to be working for the crown.”

            Eren faced me again, more pissed than angry or defensive.

            “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

            “You don’t, I guess,” I said. “There’s not much I can do to prove anything.”

            The boy stared at me for a long second before sighing and rubbing his hands over his face.

            “Reaper’s not going to like this,” he groaned.

            “Reaper won’t do a damn thing and you know it,” called Jean.

            “It doesn’t matter, bark breath!” Eren spat back. I got the impression that the two of them didn’t exactly get along. “It’s still his house and he deserves to be comfortable in it.”

            “You live here. That’s inconvenience enough.”

            “I’ll throw you out of the door and into the Wastes,” the boy threatened.

            “You kill me and Reaper dies, too, asshole!”

            _Jean dies, Reaper dies_ , I noted.

            “Whatever,” huffed Eren, storming over to the cluttered sideboard and finding a wheel of cheese and a loaf of bread. “I’m starving.”

            I eyed a plate of raw bacon strips and a basket of eggs sitting on the long and messy table. I strode over to where said food resided and traced the handle of the basket with one of my fingers.

            “Wouldn’t you rather have some bacon and eggs?” I asked. Eren didn’t even spare me a glance as he answered.

            “Yeah, but Reaper’s not home,” he said, stacking books on top of each other to make a clear place for himself.

            “I can cook,” I said. I grabbed the basket and plate and walked them over to the fireplace. A long-handled skillet hung on the wall, so I got it down and leaned it against the raised side of the hearth.

            “I’m sure you can, but Jean only listens to Reaper.” Eren continued to stack books, completely disregarding me. I looked over at the fire demon in question.

            “Is that so?” I asked. The fire’s eyes widened slightly. “Let’s get cooking, Jean.”

            “No way! I’m an extremely powerful fire demon! I don’t _cook_ ,” he protested.

            “Really now?” I deadpanned, picking up the skillet and hovering it over Jean’s face. He used his flaming little arms to push it away from himself.

            “Really!”

            “Then how would you like a cold bucket of water in your face? Or maybe you’d like me to tell Reaper about our little bargain.”

            This time his eyes threatened to pop from his nonexistent skull.

            “I knew it! I _never_ should have trusted that fucking Turnip-Head! I never should have let you in here!” he exclaimed.

            “So what is it going to be?” I asked, trying to sound bored. He fumed for a few minutes before letting the pan fall into his face. “That’s a good boy,” I deadpanned, picking up an egg from the basket and cracking it against the side of the already-hot skillet. I let the egg’s contents drip down into the pan and it sizzled upon contact.

            “ _Jean’s doing what he says_ ,” whispered Eren in awe.

            “Here’s another curse,” spat the fire demon lowly. “May all your bacon burn.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Keep up your grumbling and you don’t get any leftovers.”

            Just then there was a ding from the door. I looked over to see a colorful wheel over the knob spin and land on black. The windows went dark and the house wasn’t nearly as cheery (despite the filth). The door opened and in came a haggard but familiar-looking man. He looked up from his shoes and his icy blue eyes locked on me. I honestly thought he was going to turn around and leave again without a word.

            “No,” the two of us said at the same time.

            “Absolutely not,” said the man.

            “Reaper, what’s going on?” asked Eren from the table.

            _Reaper?_ No. No. _No_. This was not Reaper. Reaper was… not him. The formidable wizard Reaper was _not_ the asshole who flew me over the parade in Market Chipping.

            “What are you doing in my house?” Reaper asked me. The door slammed closed behind him without being touched. The windows instantly brightened back into the seaside scene of Porthaven.

            “What are you still doing alive?” I asked gruffly. “I thought I remembered telling you to choke on a dick.”

            “It kind of conflicted with my plans. Now, if you’ll answer my question – “

            “Jean hired him as a housekeeper,” Eren answered. “He said that Turnip-Head brought him in from the Wastes.”

            Reaper slowly approached me, looking from me to Jean. He towered over me and I would have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t intimidated.

            “Jean, you’re being so obedient today,” he commented.

            “It’s not my fault! He bullied me!” the fire demon explained loudly.

            “As reluctant as I am to admit it, not just anyone can do that.” The wizard looked back at me. “I’m impressed…”

            “Levi,” I said.

            “Reaper,” he replied. “But you probably knew that already.”

            “It was a little difficult to figure out, if it’s any consolation,” I deadpanned. He gave a reluctant little half-smirk, the left side of his mouth twitching. He looked me up and down and I got the feeling that he could see through my clothes if he wanted to. I almost shuddered. “What?”

            “Just making sure you don’t have any powers,” he said. “And you don’t feel like you’ve been recruited by the crown.”

            “I was in Market Chipping yesterday. How would I have been recruited by the crown?” I scoffed. Reaper took a deep breath in through his nose and placed a deliberate hand on my shoulder.

            “Wizards are capable of a lot of things, Levi,” he said lowly. “Death, destruction, curses. I can make all three happen to you in a fucking heartbeat, so don’t test me or my patience.”

            I swallowed.

            Eren was staring at the two of us with an inscrutable look on his face. It was probably confusion but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. Reaper took his large hand off my shoulder and let it drop to the side of his thigh.

            “As much as I’d like to see you lying on the streets of Porthaven with one of my shoes driven up your asshole, you can stay,” he said. “Welcome to the team.”

            “I thought you said he was a nice guy,” I said to Jean. Reaper took another deep breath before walking away to help Eren clear three spots at the table.

            “He is,” the fire demon said quietly so Reaper couldn’t hear, still very obviously annoyed that he was being used as a stove. I cracked five more eggs into the side of the pan and dropped the shells into Jean’s waiting mouth. “But he’s abrasive. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and sound but he’ll make you feel like shit the entire time if you piss him off.”

            I hummed in recognition and dropped three fat slices of bacon into the other side of the skillet, grease bubbling up and filling the disgusting house with the warm smells of food.

            By the time I was done Reaper was beside me with plates. He portioned out food as I held the skillet away from the Jean’s flames, then took each plate and set at a cleared place at the table. Eren was slicing bread and placing a piece on the side of each plate.

            “I can’t remember the last time we had a real breakfast,” the boy said excitedly. “You usually come in and go straight to the bathroom and then to bed.”

            “I’m aware,” said Reaper.

            I leaned the dirty skillet up against the side of the hearth and walked over to the one remaining place at the table, a place with a plate and a spoon. I looked at Eren questioningly and he told me that there had only been three clean utensils left in the whole house, so I would have to make do with a slightly crusty spoon. I sat down and wiped the utensil on my pant leg to rid it of a few crumbs of dirt.

            “Alright, everybody. Dig in,” said Reaper, speaking mostly to Eren. The boy’s eyes lit up and he looked far more innocent than he had when he’d been confronting me. He tucked into the food, showing absolutely no table manners. Reaper and I, despite our differences, glanced at each other from across the table and cringed at Eren’s eating habits.

            I spooned out part of a fried egg and ate it, marveling at just how much better it tasted than bread and cheese. The black-haired wizard beside me was about to pick up his piece of bacon when he suddenly stiffened.

            “What do you have in your pocket, Levi?” he asked without looking at me.

            “What?” I asked.

            “You have something in your pocket.”

            The guy was insane. The only things I ever carried in my pockets were the hat shop’ keys and my own hands, and neither were in there at that time. I humored him though, sticking one of my hands into my left pocket. I felt nothing.

            “What do you know? It’s a hand,” I said.

            “Check to other pocket, genius,” instructed Reaper. I rolled my eyes but did as he told.

            My fingers brushed up against something. I pinched a piece of paper between my fingers and pulled it from my pocket, eying it suspiciously.

            “Give it to me,” the wizard said. I quickly went to hand it to him across the table, but the moment it touched his hand the red slip of paper went up in flames. It fell onto the table and disappeared, leaving nothing but an oddly-shaped burn on the table.

            “Scorch marks!” exclaimed Eren in childlike wonder. “Reaper, can you read them?”

            “This is ancient sorcery, and quite powerful, too,” he said to himself, staring at the black lines on the wood.

            “Is it from the Witch of the Wastes?”

            “’You who swallowed a falling star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine,’” he read.

            I looked down at the marks and marveled at how he could read them. It was just a circle enclosing several crisscrossing lines. It did sound like it could be from the Witch of the Wastes, considering her reputed fixation with hearts.

            “That can’t be good for the table,” said Reaper, bringing his hand up to the wood.

            Eren and I watched in awe as reaper flatted his hand like a blade and slowly ran it over the scorch marks, making them disappear in his wake. Once the marks were gone Eren spoke up.

            “They’re gone,” he said unhelpfully. I cast a glance at the boy, hoping he’d realize how stupidly obvious his statement was. If he did realize it he didn’t let it on.

            “The marks are gone, but the curse is still there,” Reaper said. He suddenly stood up and shoved his piece of bacon into his mouth, going over to Jean and dumping his bread and eggs into the demon’s own awaiting mouth. “Jean, move the castle sixty miles to the west.”

            Jean finished chewing. By then Reaper was halfway up the stairs, only his feet visible. He suddenly came back down several steps and poked his head out from under the second floor.

            “And while you’re at it make some hot water for my bath,” the wizard called down before disappearing completely up the stairs.

            “Oh, sure. Like running this fucking castle isn’t enough work already!” Jean called after him.

            Eren and I eyed the place where Reaper had been sitting with mild shock. It had all happened so fast.

            “Does he always go up without eating?” I asked.

            “I’ve only seen him eat a handful of times,” Eren answered. “I’m sure he does. I mean, he has to eat. Well, he is a wizard, so he could be using nutrition spells-“

            “Not important, kid,” I interrupted. He paused, then nodded to show that I was probably right.

            “Do you work for the Witch of the Wastes?” he asked.

            I felt white hot rage fill me up at the mere suggestion.

            “Why the fuck would I work for her when she’s the one who-“

            I couldn’t speak. My lips zipped together, leaving only a small hole at the corner of my mouth for breathing. I muttered some things into my closed lips as Eren looked on in confusion. I finally took a deep, angry breath before I _slammed_ my fists down onto the table.

            “ _If I ever get my hands on that fucking witch I’m going to wring her bulbous neck_ ,” I seethed. “Eat your breakfast, Eren.”

            He looked on in horror as I shoveled food into my face, but he did as he was told, this time politely spooning bits of egg into his mouth as he undoubtedly wondered what in the hell had gotten into me.


	4. What the Hell is Wrong with Reaper and Why Are We Hanging Up Women's Underwear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi cleans, learns some things about Reaper, and meets the castle's most elusive inhabitant.

            I spent the next several days cleaning that godforsaken castle.

            I started by making Eren help me sort out what was trash and what was important, then I forced him to assist in boxing things up and carrying them outside into Porthaven (I soon learned that he front door was enchanted, with portals to Porthaven, the Wastes, Kingsbury, and a dark undisclosed location that only Reaper was allowed to enter) so I could sweep the place free of dirt. I swept cobwebs down from the rafters before getting the floor dust-free, then I scrubbed the wood with water and a scrub brush, and then I mopped the place for good measure. I dusted furniture and washed dishes and shooed an alarming number of insects out of the house and into Kingsbury, all the while muttering angrily to myself. I once heard Eren tell a customer outside in Porthaven (he started taking customers outside so he wouldn’t dirty the floors while I cleaned) not to go in because there was “a hat trimmer on a rampage in there.”

            In those several days I spent cleaning I only saw Reaper once, and that was when he came in to revive Jean after I almost let him die out while cleaning out the fireplace. Aside from that the only indications that he still lived in the castle were the sounds of running water and the line of dirty footprints that would appear each morning when I woke up.

            On the third day of cleaning I finally made it to the stairs, sweeping crud from the steps into a sheet I laid on the ground floor. Once I made it to the second floor Eren came rushing up to bar me from entering.

            “You can’t come up here!” he exclaimed nervously, his bright green eyes wide. “Reaper won’t like it!”

            I stared at the boy with bored, impassive eyes.

            “Whatever you don’t want me to clean you better hide it now,” I said evenly.

            His eyes went even wider and his chest puffed out in a gasp.

            “Save my room for last!” he begged, running off in the direction of what I assumed was his room. I almost chuckled. He reminded me of a child despite the fact that his balls had probably dropped. I went into the first room and almost had a heart attack.

            I had been using the bathroom at night when it was dark, so I had never seen it in full. I was glad I hadn’t. It was more disgusting than anything I’d ever seen in my life. It didn’t smell particularly bad (it honestly had a floral scent to it, like lavender and daffodils), but the tub, which had probably one been white, was marred by brightly colored chemical streaks leading down into murky water that hadn’t been drained. The toilet was open and in not much better condition. I shuddered to think that I had put my ass on that discolored seat and had washed my hands in that stained sink.

            I sighed to keep myself from screaming in frustration. When was the last time anyone had cleaned this place?

            I walked over to the window and stuck my head out to get some fresh air into my system, half expecting to see a Porthaven side street. Instead I was met by the view of a large lake surrounded by snowcapped mountains, grass almost blindingly and perfectly green. It was jaw dropping. Before I could stop myself I was quickly striding out of the bathroom and onto the little second-floor balcony, gripping the metal railing as I looked down at the mechanical movements of the castle. The legs themselves were more intricate than any hat I had ever trimmed, with innumerable moving parts and creaking joints. I realized that the entire castle, even though it moved by magic, was a fully functioning mechanical device that had to weigh several tons.

            I quickly left the balcony, leaving the door open, and went halfway down the stairs. I poked my head under the second floor and spoke.

            “Jean!” I called. “Are you the one moving the castle?”

            “Who else does any work around here?” he asked, almost disgruntled that I would even question it.

            “I’m impressed,” I said, walking back up the stairs. “You’re a first class fire demon.”

            Jean was silent for a few moments, then let out an awed mutter of “he appreciates me.” The house suddenly lurched and moved faster than ever. I assumed that Jean was putting in more effort out of happiness.

            I went back out onto the balcony to find Eren leaning against the railing. I strode over to stand next to him, propping one foot up against the railing’s bottom rung.

            “It’s beautiful,” I mused, looking out over the landscape.

            “It’s called Star Lake,” Eren told me. “We come here a lot.”

            “Are we still in Ingary?” I asked.

            “I think so. I’m pretty sure that this is the country’s border, though. The other side of the lake is a neighboring kingdom. The one with the missing prince. This is actually where we picked up the scarecrow.”

            I hummed in recognition before catching something out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head to see a bare pole sticking out of a slot in the castle.

            “Speaking of Turnip-Head,” I said. I walked over to the pole and yanked up, bringing the scarecrow out of the slot. He promptly leapt out of my hands and righted himself, planting the bottom of his pole squarely on a protruding edge of the castle wall. “He’s always managing to get stuck upside down.”

            “Yeah,” said Eren, looking over at the scarecrow. “I found him stuck upside down in some bushes around the lake. He’s been following us around ever since. I think Jean likes him.”

            “How can you tell?”

            “They can talk to each other, apparently. I think they have little mental conversations when Jean and I aren’t fighting.”

            The castle took a few more steps and then stuttered to a halt, sagging down to the ground several hundred feet from the lake.

            “I guess it’s time to hang up the laundry,” I said, turning away from the scenery. “You’re helping me.”

            The boy groaned but complied, following me back into the castle.

            The next half hour was spent bringing all the laundry out of the house and hanging it on a makeshift clothesline (we made it by tying one end of a length of rope to the stair railing inside the castle and the other end to Turnip-Head’s pole). Once all the clothes and sheets were hung up – we had the _fantastic_ experience of hanging up several pairs of women’s underwear that I didn’t want to know the origins of – Eren and I carried two chairs and a small table out to the lakeshore. We poured ourselves some mugs of tea and then sat in the chairs overlooking the lake.

            “You said you were a hat trimmer,” Eren said. “Why did you decide to become a housekeeper? And why here?”

            I sighed and took a long hot swallow of my tea.

            “I didn’t really decide to become a housekeeper. That was kind of thrust upon me.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Another swallow of tea.

            “Can’t really tell you, kid,” I said. “Not that I don’t want to.”

            Eren looked at me strangely for a moment before shrugging. He took a sip from his mug and crossed his legs in his seat.

            “So how did you get here?” I asked him. “Surely you haven’t been with Reaper from the beginning.” He shook his head.

            “Nah,” he said. “I wanted to hone my magic but I couldn’t get an apprenticeship anywhere and I was too old to start the Royal Sorcery Academy, so I sought out Reaper about a year ago. I get to keep half the money I make for him. I send most of it back home to my sister, Mikasa.”

            “And he just let you stay?”

            “Is it really so surprising? He let you stay and he barely likes you.”

            I shrugged, brushing off the little insult.

            “It took a little convincing, but I managed to get him to let me stay. He seems to like me well enough, even though I hardly ever see him anymore,” Eren continued. “And before you ask I’m not sure what he does. All I know is that he’s working hard at whatever he’s doing. Whenever I do see him come in he always looks exhausted. Sometimes his clothes are torn.”

            I hummed and took another sip of tea.

            “And you’ve never asked what he does when he goes out?” I asked.

            “I did in the beginning, once, but he didn’t tell me anything. He just gave me kind of an exhausted glance and then went upstairs,” he said. He looked down into his mug, swirling the tea along the sides. “I don’t know much about him at all, really. All I know is that he has two aliases – Pendragon in Kingsbury and Jenkins in Porthaven – and he and Jean are somehow magically bound, like through a contract or something. I don’t even know his last name or how old he is. I don’t think he’d tell me if I asked.”

            “I guess he’s a pretty secretive guy,” I said.

            “You could say that.”

            Eren took a sip from his mug. He brought it down from his mouth and looked out over the surface of the lake. The sky was partly cloudy, a storm stirring on the opposite shore but little columns of sunlight breaking through the cloud cover.

            “He does strange things though,” he murmured. “Sometimes I’ll catch him scratching at himself like he wants to tear his skin off. Once I accidentally walked into his room and found him just staring into his mirror. I don’t even think he noticed me. And the women’s underwear that we hung up… He never has anyone over, much less any girls.”

            “Maybe he has a kink for them. We all jerk off, I’m assuming,” I said. Eren’s cheeks turned light red and he looked down into his cup.

            “I don’t know. I’m not the most observant person, but even I can see that he hates his body.”

            _Hates his body, huh?_ I thought. _That sounds familiar_.

            “Maybe he wants to be a girl,” I said. “That could explain the underwear.”

            “He’s one of the most powerful wizards in Ingary. If he wanted to be a girl he could make it happen.”

            “I guess you’re right.”

            We sat there until dark. By then the storm was coming ever closer, the chill in the air becoming more pronounced, so Eren and I took in the laundry and chairs. I made a dinner that Reaper never showed up for and put his portion in the icebox. Once Eren and I had eaten and done dishes it was nine o’clock at night. The boy, apparently exhausted from a long day of waiting for laundry to dry, yawned and went upstairs, wishing me goodnight as he ascended the steps.

            Reaper had gotten me a small bed and put it in the living room. The thing had curtains that I could draw, which was nice, but the mattress was a bit lumpy. It never tended to matter, however, considering that I was usually so exhausted from a day of rigorous cleaning that I couldn’t stay awake on a bed of nails. That night as I flopped down on my mattress, however, I found myself wide awake. I drew the curtains, toed off my shoes, and laid back against my pillow, crossing one leg over the other.

            I must have laid there for an hour before I heard the front door ding. The sound of the door opening came in through the closed curtains, then footsteps and the door closing. The footsteps were slow and heavy, indicative of long strides and exhaustion. I assumed that Reaper was home.

            “You’ve been scratching again,” Jean said quietly. The footsteps stopped and a sigh escaped the wizard’s nostrils.

            “That’s what you notice?” he half chuckled.

            “I’m more concerned about your state of mind than the fact that-“

            “Shhh,” hushed Reaper. “In case one of them is awake.”

            “If you told one of them maybe they could help you.”

            There was no audible response, leaving me with more questions. The footsteps started back up again, this time thudding up the stairs and onto the second floor. I sat up and spread my fingers through the gap in the curtains, creating a little gap to see through. Nothing much was out of the ordinary. The only thing out of place was the line of dirty footprints that ran from the front door to the stairs.

            “I see you,” said Jean. I started and then sighed, pushing one curtain open halfway.

            “What’s going on with Reaper?” I asked quietly. The fire demon’s fiery face contorted into a pained expression.

            “A lot of things are going on with Reaper.”

            “That’s fairly obvious. Why is he scratching himself?”

            Jean sighed, a tiny shower of sparks spewing from his fiery mouth.

            “It’s not my place to say,” he said. “I’m just a fire demon who-”

            “You’re a very powerful fire demon who can do just about anything he damn well pleases,” I corrected. “What’s going on with Reaper?”

            “I’m not going to tell you anything. If Reaper wants you to know he’ll tell you himself.”

            “Don’t you want what’s best for him? I heard you telling him that one of us could help him if we knew something.”

            “Don’t even try to guilt me into anything. I have no heart.”

            I hummed and raised my eyebrows in defeat, fully ready to flop back down and try to sleep once more. That was when Jean spoke.

            “He feels trapped in that body,” he said lowly. “The scratching is kind of a nervous tic. I think it makes him feel like he can peel his skin off and reveal someone else underneath.”

            The sound of footsteps, lighter this time, came from upstairs. I assumed they belonged to Eren, but Jean’s eyes widened and his little arms gestured wildly.

            “ _Close the curtain!_ ” he hissed at me. I quickly drew up my legs and obeyed.

            The footsteps came down the stairs and padded towards the door. The portal bell dinged and the door opened. Footsteps, the door closing, and silence.

            “Levi,” Jean said quietly. I pulled back a curtain and looked at the fire demon.

            “What is it?” I asked.

            “If you really want to find out what’s going on, go out to the Wastes right now.”

            “What?”

            “Just go out to the Wastes! I won’t tell you anything, but that doesn’t mean you can’t figure it out for yourself.”

            I glanced over at the door. The colorful wheel underneath the handle was positioned on the Wastes’ color, indicating that Reaper really had gone out to the Wastes. I looked back at Jean.

            “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” I asked.

            “No, but do it anyway.”

            Well, I certainly couldn’t argue with that logic.

            Sighing, I slipped on my shoes and refastened my belt before getting out of bed. I quietly strode to the door, then looked back at Jean. He waved his flaming arms, telling me to go, and I reluctantly complied. I opened the door and stepped outside into the Wastes.

            The moon was full, thank God; I could actually see everything that was going on. We were still at Star Lake, moonlight reflecting off the rippling water like snowcaps on mountains. A thick forest stood to the left of the sleeping castle. I circled the castle once and couldn’t find anyone, so I assumed that Reaper must have gone into the forest.

            “ _Just_ _my_ _fucking_ _luck_ ,” I muttered, still grumpy that I was outside in the first place.

            I walked quietly into the forest, surprised to find a path relatively clear of underbrush. I assumed that this was the way Reaper had walked; it could have already been there or he could have magically pushed the underbrush to the side. Either way, the path led me past gnarled trees that looked suspiciously like faces and tall twisting aspens reminiscent of trees I had seen in my childhood storybooks, past chunks of tree-free forest that allowed me to see directly to the clear blue lake, and directly to a large clearing.

            I wasn’t stupid. I knew that Reaper didn’t want anyone to know what was going on, so I would have to be sneaky about this. For that reason I didn’t actually enter the clearing; I simply tucked myself behind a large tree and peeked around it to look into the cleared area. What I saw wasn’t necessarily bad. What it _was_ was surprising.

            In the middle of the clearing stood a young girl, perhaps sixteen, with black hair cut sweepingly but very short, almost like a boy’s. She wore a white button-down shirt, tight khaki pants that reached her ankles, and no shoes. Her skin was pale, almost glowing from the light of the moon, and the moonlight caught on a prominent scar lining the left side of her jaw. She kept her eyes closed and some kind of long stick in her hands.

            I was immediately struck by how similar to Reaper she looked. She had the same black hair and pale skin, and I would have bet money that when her eyelids rose they would reveal icy blue irises. But she carried herself differently, with shoulders slightly hunched, like she was trying to hide herself. And she was short, probably even shorter than I was. And that scar.

            She straightened herself up, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes.

            I was right. They were icy blue and full of fire.

            She suddenly leapt forward and swung the staff in her hands, spinning and striking it into a tree. Next she spun around and twirled the stick threateningly, attacking two unseen enemies. Digging the edge of her stick into the ground she jumped, using the stick to vault herself into the air to kick an airborne adversary. When she landed she rolled over her shoulder until she was in a crouch. She leapt up into a standing position and then ran directly for a tree. She ran up the trunk and flipped over herself.

            She continued this routine with various flips and strikes and kicks, all the while exhibiting tremendous amounts of strength and dexterity. I was floored. This girl should have been in the military. As I watched her shadowbox gracefully around the clearing I thought that I was content to stay where I was for a very long time.

            Or I would have been content if I hadn’t sneezed.

            The girl immediately whirled around and stabbed her weapon in my direction. I had quickly ducked behind the tree to avoid detection, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before she found me.

            “Who’s there?” she asked quietly, her voice ragged from fighting.

            I sighed and stepped out from behind the tree, holding my hands up in surrender. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered the point of the stick.

            “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.” She tensed again.

            I raised a brow.

            “How do you know me?” I asked.

            “I don’t. What gave you that idea?” she said too quickly. She winced when she heard how it sounded. “Okay, okay.”

            “Yeah, that was horrible.”

            “I’m usually a lot better.”

            “I’m sure you are. Now how do you know me?”

            “Don’t you think I should be the one asking the questions here? I’m the one with the big pointy stick.”

            “You seem to know everything you need to know already,” I answered.

            “Not necessarily. Why are you out here?” she asked.

            “The fire demon that lives in the castle told me to come out here if I wanted to know what was going on with the Wizard Reaper.”

            She inhaled sharply and then nearly growled.

            “ _Jean_ , you _bastard_ -“

            “How do you know Jean’s name?” I asked.

            She tensed again.

            “Fuck me,” she said. “And don’t tell me that you’d like to buy me dinner first.”

            “That wasn’t even on my mind.”

            “Good.”

            “How do you know Jean’s name?”

            She purposefully unwound her muscles and took a deep breath.

            “I- I-“ she stammered. She took another deep breath to steady herself. “I live in the castle, too.”

            “I’ve never seen you.”

            A tiny smirk quirked the side of her mouth.

            “That’s on purpose.”

            “Why?”

            “That’s none of your concern.”

            “Fair enough.”

            We stood in silence, looking at each other, for several moments before I spoke again.

            “You look a lot like Reaper. Are you his sister?”

            She hesitated before saying “yes.”

            “And he just keeps his sister locked up in the castle during the day?”

            “No,” she said quickly. “I just… I don’t want anyone to see me. Don’t ask why.”

            I looked at her with what I hoped were bored eyes. Her hands were white-knuckled around her staff, like she was ready to attack at any moment.

            “What’s your name?” I asked.

            “You’ve asked enough questions.”

            I shrugged and then, suddenly, yawned. I was suddenly very tired.

            “You’re tired,” the girl observed. “Your eyes are drooping.”

            “So they are,” I yawned. “If I can’t ask any more questions I’ll go ahead and head back into the castle.”

            She nodded and I turned around. I took several steps before she called out to me.

            “Wait!” she called. I turned hallway around to face her. “Tomorrow night… will you come back?”

            I cocked a brow.

            “Come again?”

            “Would you come back again tomorrow night?” she asked. She looked half a step away from desperate.

            “Why?”

            “I… just… I haven’t talked to anyone but myself and Jean for three years.”

            Three years.

            I thought it over. On the one hand I would probably be incredibly tired the following day and would be loath to actually drag my sorry ass out to the Wastes; on the other hand she was lonely and almost desperate. On that same second hand she could probably teach me how to use her stick.

            “Will you teach me how to use your stick thing?” I asked.

            “Bo staff,” she corrected. “And yes.”

            “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            She closed her eyes and let out a large breath.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            “I’m getting something out of it, kid. Don’t thank me.”

            She looked at me with exhausted eyes.

            “Just go, Levi,” she sighed.

            “Whatever.”

            I turned and left, going back up the path and into the castle. When I closed the door Jean was on me, even if he was still in the hearth.

            “Did you figure it out?” he asked quietly. “Did you?”

            “No,” I said.

            “Then what took you so long?”

            “I wasn’t that long, was I?”

            “I’m impatient. What took you so long?”

            “I was talking to a girl.”

            Jean’s eyes looked just as exhausted as the girl’s as he let out an exasperated sigh.

            “ _You’ve got to be kidding me_ ,” he muttered.

            “What?”

            “Nothing. I’m not telling you anything. I’m already going to catch hell for sending you out there.”

            I shrugged and walked over to my bed, unfastening my belt and toeing off my shoes. I left both my belt and my shoes on the floor as I crawled onto the mattress.

            “Good night, Jean,” I said.

            “Good night, insufferable moron.”

            “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, genuinely confused.

            “Hopefully you’ll figure it out soon enough,” he said.

            “Whatever,” I said, burrowing under the covers and quickly falling asleep.


	5. I Swear to God Why is This Day So Shitty?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are bombs in Porthaven harbor and Reaper gets hurt. The two events are completely unrelated.

            The next day I took Eren into Porthaven to do grocery shopping. The three of us (or five if you counted Jean and the girl, but I never made any food for the girl and Jean mostly ate food scraps and logs) had mostly been subsisting on bacon, eggs, cheese, and bread for the past four days, and I, for one, was sick of it.

            Eren and I walked out of the front door and down several blocks until we reached the market, a long strip of cobblestoned road lined on one side by storefronts and the other side by the sea. Once we reached the first vendor, a portly man selling vegetables, I placed eight potatoes into the deep basket Eren carried in his withered hands (he was disguised as the cloaked old man he served customers as).

            “Hmph,” Eren huffed. “I hate potatoes.”

            “Too bad. Pay up,” I said. Then, to the man running the produce stand: “Thank you.”

            “No problem, sir,” he responded kindly as Eren handed over several coins.

            Our next stop was another produce stand. I bought several handfuls of green beans and several tomatoes despite Eren’s huffs that he hated them, then moved onto a butcher’s shop. I drug Eren inside to purchase a slab of beef for stew (he didn’t complain this time). Next was an older woman selling spices, and then a fish vendor.

            “Hmph!” Eren huffed again. “I hate fish.”

            “For Christ’s sake, Eren,” I snapped. “You have to eat something other than bacon and eggs.”

            He shrunk back and apologized, handing over more coins as we I placed several large fish into the basket.

            Suddenly a loud gasp rang out from the market-goers. The fish vendor’s eyes went almost comically wide as he said “we’re closed” and rushed to the other side of the wide street.

            “What’s going on?” I asked aloud. Eren pulled on my sleeve and got me to turn around.

            A navy vessel was being tugged into port, and it wasn’t in good shape. The bow was crushed and a large hole was present in the siding, allowing water to flood into the ship. Almost everything was covered in a thin layer of ash, indicating that it had been bombed. The street, moderately busy only several moments earlier, was now packed as people flooded to the sea side of the street.

            “Is that one of ours?” someone asked.

            “What’s going on?”

            “What happened to that ship?”

            “Can’t you see it’s been bombed?”

            Sailors were pouring out of the vessel now, splashing into the water and swimming over to a neighboring boat. A plane zoomed overhead, flying so low that it ruffled my hair and Eren’s cloak. A compartment on the plane’s underbelly opened up and sent thousands of pieces of paper fluttering down onto the street. Members of the guard were immediately shouting at civilians not to pick up any of the leaflets, that they could be enemy propaganda. I surreptitiously bent down and picked one up anyway.

            “Didn’t you hear them?” Eren asked me quietly. “It could be enemy propaganda.”

            “And telling people not to look at it constitutes as domestic propaganda,” I responded.

            As I stood up I looked to the sides to see if anyone had seen me pick up the paper. Glancing to the right I saw guards wrestling papers from civilians’ hands. To the left I saw-

            I pushed myself up against the wall.

            “ _Shit monsters_ ,” I spat.

            “Shit monsters?” Eren asked, eyes going wide. “Where?”

            “Don’t look,” I said, then jerked my head in their direction. I risked another glance. There was only one that I could see, and it was dressed in a purple suitcoat, green pants, a white eye mask, and a top hat. I was at a loss as to why it would wear such a ridiculous outfit – or clothes at all, for that matter – but I didn’t exactly care.

            Eren looked, against my directions, and quickly jerked his head away.

            “Come on,” I said quietly, stuffing the paper into my pocket. Eren nodded.

            There were suddenly a series of loud bangs and geysers that shot up from the water.

            “ _Bombs_ ,” I murmured amongst the chaos. “ _We really are at war._ ”

            “Come on, Levi,” Eren begged, tugging at my arm. I quickly looked up to see the enemy airship that had dropped the bombs, then relented and left with Eren.

            Once back at the Jenkins storefront we rushed inside and shut the door. We leaned against the wood for a few moments before looking at each other.

            “Christ,” I said, running a hand over my face. Eren pulled down his hood and let out a breath.

            “What’s going on?” asked Jean from the hearth.

            “Bombs in the Porthaven harbor,” Eren said, not yelling at the fire demon for once.

            “What?” Jean gasped. “Why would-“

            “We’re at war,” I said, climbing the steps to get into the castle. “It’s a typical military tactic. I would know.”

            “Were you in the military?” asked Eren. I nodded.

            “Okay, it’s great and all that we’re learning new things about each other, but Reaper’s here and he really needs some help.”

“Just a second, asshole,” said Eren, obviously more interested in my military experience than in any issue Reaper might have had. He came up the stairs and went to the sink to get a glass of water.

            I remembered the paper in my pocket. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled it out, sitting back against the chair back. Unfolding the leaflet, I held it in my hands as I gazed at it.

            “What does it say?” Eren asked as he came back with his glass of water. He planted himself in a chair at the table.

            “It’s about that missing prince from the neighboring kingdom,” I said. “It says there’s a reward for anyone who finds him, and if they don’t find him within two months they’re going to assume he’s being held prisoner by the Ingarian government.”

            “So they’ll attack again.”

            “I assume so,” I said, gazing at the prince’s portrait. He appeared to be tall and strong, with darker skin and a multitude of freckles covering all visible skin.

            Eren nodded gravely.

            “Sometimes I wish I had gone into the military instead,” he said. “What I wish more is that I had gone to the Royal Sorcery Academy. I would be finished with school by now and I’d be able to serve the king.”

            I scoffed.

            “It’s not that great, kid,” I said. “The king’s not as wonderful as you think he is. Everyone in the military has met the guy and none of us are ever impressed. He’s a mediocre strategist and absolutely stupid when it comes to diplomacy. If it were totally up to him we’d solve all our problems by blowing other kingdoms to smithereens every time they crossed us.”

            Eren’s green eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed.

            “Isn’t it totally up to him?” he asked. I shook my head.

            “There’s a series of advisors that battle plans have to get through. Some of the advisors are pretty smart, but most of them are of the same mind as the king.”

            “How do you know all this?”

            “They teach you in the military.”

            He looked down at his feet and took a sip of his water, looking like he was thinking very hard about something he couldn’t grasp. If I’d been a lesser man I would have called it cute.

            “Listen, guys,” Jean said desperately. “Reaper _really_ needs some help right now.”

            “He can take care of himself, can’t he?” Eren asked. “He’s the most powerful wizard in Ingary.”

            “He can’t help himself if he’s so hurt he can’t reach his injury.”

            Eren’s eyes widened to the point here I thought they might pop out of his skull. He jumped up and raced to the stairs.

            “Wait, Eren!” called Jean. “Levi should be the one to help him.”

            “But I’m the one with magic!”

            “And Levi knows something about Reaper that you don’t, whether he realizes it or not,” he shot back. “Just send Levi up and then he’ll tell you when it’s okay to come in and help.”

            Eren looked at the fire demon strangely, but he relented and stepped aside. I strode over to the stairs and ascended them, wondering what I knew about Reaper that his apprentice didn’t.

            “Remember to knock on his door first!” called Eren. “He really likes his privacy.”

            “Got it!” I called back.

            When I made it to Reaper’s door I was sure to knock. I got a quiet groan in return.

            “Reaper, are you okay in there?” I asked. Stupid. Of course he wasn’t okay.

            There was no response for a moment, then his voice came through the door.

            “Give… give me a second,” he said weakly. I then heard shifting fabric and an audible wince. Panting. “Come… in.”

            I cautiously turned the knob only to find it locked.

            “Reaper?”

            “Right,” he said. He winced again and the door swung open to reveal his room.

            I was immediately struck by the Spartan bareness of the room. There was only a desk, a chair acting as a nightstand, a bookshelf (this was absolutely stuffed with books, so the room wasn’t completely empty by any means), a wardrobe, a trashcan, and a small bed pushed up against the far wall. Several books lay open on the desk and another on the floor by the bed, a handful of pens was scattered here and there, but that was the extent of the room’s mess. I wondered how he could have let the rest of the house become so disgusting when his own room was so uncluttered.

            The second thing that struck me was the amount of blood soaking the bedsheets. Reaper was tangled up in them and panting heavily, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. His face was twisted into a pained grimace and I felt instantly sorry for the man, regardless of how he felt about me.

            I walked over to Reaper’s bedside, moving the candle from the chair and setting the light source on the desk.

            “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’m going to get some towels.”

            The man nodded and I left through the door, going across the hall to the disgusting bathroom I had forgotten to clean the previous day. I opened up the linen closet in the bathroom and took out several towels and washcloths, carrying them back to Reaper’s room and setting them on the foot of the bed. I went back to the bathroom and filled a shallow basin with clean water, bringing that back to Reaper’s room as well. I set the basin on the floor beside the chair before sitting down.

            “Close the door,” Reaper panted, hands fisting in the sheets. I nodded and went back to the door, pulling it closed. I came back to the chair and sat, rolling up my sleeves.

            “I’m going to pull back the covers now,” I said quietly. I was surprised he heard me with how hard he was breathing, but he nodded.

            He was lying with his back to me, so I was immediately presented with his injury. His shirt was ripped in the back, revealing a deep gash on the right shoulder blade. It was bleeding profusely, the viscous liquid absolutely gushing from the wound. I inhaled and was immediately assaulted by the smell of blood.

            “How did this happen?” I asked.

            “Not important,” he ground out.

            “Okay.”

            I didn’t ask any more of those questions after that. Instead, I got to work, ripping the fabric of his shirt so he wouldn’t have to raise his arms. I peeled the shirt from his body and his left arm came up to cover his chest. I scoffed.

            “Got tits?” I asked, leaning over to grab a washcloth. I pressed it against the wound and he hissed.

            “Something like that,” he groaned.

            The blood wouldn’t stop gushing. It was completely useless to mop it up if it kept coming, plus Reaper was starting to turn even paler than he already was. He was losing too much blood.

            “There’s ointment downstairs. It’s called Heptamine Judicia. Go get it,” he said.

            “I need to stop the bleeding before-“

            “Heptamine Judicia is a blood clotting agent, Levi.”

            I instantly stood and left the room, careful to appear nonchalant as I descended the stairs. I didn’t want to scare Eren, no matter how dire the situation was.

            “Is he okay?” Eren asked when he saw me.

            “He asked for something called Heptamine Judicia,” I said. The boy rushed over to a cabinet and pulled out a small glass tub of greenish ointment.

            “How badly is he bleeding?”

            I didn’t really want to tell him, but I didn’t want to lie, either. I settled for not saying anything at all as I walked back up the stairs, ointment in hand.

            When I got back to Reaper’s room I closed the door and hurried to his bedside. I twisted off the tub’s cap and dunked my fingers into the cream.

            “How much?” I asked.

            “Just a thin layer on the entire wound.”

            I removed my fingers from the ointment and wiped one of them off on a washcloth, then got to work slathering on a layer of Heptamine Judicia. The moment it touched the wound the bleeding stopped. I let out a sigh of relief and kept smearing the cream over the gash.

            “Is it working?” Reaper asked.

            “There was a chance it wouldn’t?”

            “If the wound is inflicted by magic Heptamine Judicia won’t do anything. It’s a magical ointment intended for nonmagical injuries,” he explained. “I’m assuming that means that it’s working.”

            “It’s working,” I affirmed. He let out his own sigh of relief.

            “Thank God,” he said quietly. “I’m too young to die.”

            “How old are you?”

            “Younger than I look right now.”

            I realized he wasn’t going to tell me anything else about himself, so I busied myself with finishing my ointment-slathering. Once the bleeding stopped I began wiping away fresh blood from Reaper’s back.

            The whole process of cleaning him up took about fifteen minutes. When that was done I made him get up so I could change the sheets. He hobbled over to his desk and leaned against it while I stripped the bed. The mattress was soaked.

            “How did you not bleed out?” I asked him. He attempted to shrug but could only do it with one shoulder. “The mattress is ruined.”

            He grunted as he pushed himself off the desk. He stumbled over to the bed and hovered his hand over the mattress.

            “What are you doing?” I asked.

            “Saving the mattress.”

            The blood immediately came out of the mattress, coming out in viscous columns and clinging to Reaper’s palms in scabs. Once all the blood was gone from the mattress he peeled the scabs from his hands and deposited them in the trashcan. He almost collapsed on his way back to the desk, but he caught himself just in time. He laughed lightly, and it sounded lighter than laughter from a wounded man should sound.

            I went back to the linen closet and got a fresh set of sheets, then took them back to Reaper’s room and quickly put them on the bed. When that was done I helped Reaper get into bed. He groaned when his back hit the mattress, so I helped him roll over onto his stomach.

            “Thank you, Levi,” he said quietly. “I probably would have died without you.”

            “No shit you would have died,” I said. “I saved your life. You owe me.”

            He laughed again.

            “What do I owe you?” he asked. “You obviously can’t have my body right now.”

            “Right now. Is that a promise?”

            If he could have moved he would have recoiled. He laughed anyway.

            “That is by no means an offer or a promise.”

            “Too bad.”

            I wanted so badly to ask him to break my curse, but a) I physically couldn’t talk about it to anyone who didn’t already know me, and b) I didn’t know if he could break the curse but I _knew_ that Jean could. I couldn’t jeopardize my chances by blowing my cover. So, I stayed silent about the matter.

            “You should pay me a salary,” I joked. Apparently it wasn’t humorous enough for him to know I wasn’t serious.

            “Okay,” he said.

            “Wait, really?”

            “You’ve done so much for this castle. It’s only fair you get something in return.”

            “You’ve given me food and shelter. That’s payment enough.”

            “Nope. You’re getting a salary. It’ll be small, but it’s a salary.”

            I sighed.

            “Thank you.”

            “Not a problem.”

            We were silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

            “About my sister,” he said.

            “What about her?”

            “She won’t be going out tonight.”

            “What? Are you keeping her captive to play nursemaid?”

            “No. She’s sick, so you don’t have to bother with going into the Wastes. I’m sure you’re already exhausted and it’s only around noon.”

            I nodded.

            “You guys keep me busy.”

            He laughed again and closed his eyes.

            “Thank you again,” he said. “I think I’m going to sleep for the rest of the day. Might do me good to actually sleep for once.”

            “You don’t sleep?” He shook his head.

            “Not often. I use rest spells.”

            “That can’t be good for you.”

            “They’re only meant for occasional usages. So no. Not good for me.”

            His breathing was starting to become steadier, so I bid him a good rest and left. When I got downstairs Eren’s legs were jiggling with nerves. All the water in his glass was gone.

            “How is he?” Eren asked me.

            “He’s fine now,” Jean said. “I can feel it.”

            “I didn’t ask you, flame brain,” the boy spat.

            “He’s fine now,” I reiterated. “He’s lost a lot of blood but he stayed conscious through the whole thing. He’s asleep now. I wouldn’t wake him.”

            Eren let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

            “Thank God,” he breathed. “We need him.”

            “So you’re only glad he’s alive because you need him?” I teased. He immediately put up his hands, his expression going defensive and wide-eyed.

            “No! That’s not what I meant at all! I just- you know-“

            “Relax, kid. I’m joking.”

            He nodded again, this time stiffly.

            We were all silent for a few moments before I ran my hands over my face in exhaustion.

            “I’m going to clean the bathroom now,” I said, leaning against the bottom banister.

            “You should take a nap, Levi,” said Jean.

            “For once I agree with bark breath,” Eren said.

            “Don’t call me that.”

            “You eat wood!”

            “Kids, calm down,” I said dryly.

            “I’m not a kid! I’m eighteen!”

            “And I’m thirty-one. You’re a kid to me.”

            Eren was about to respond, but I silenced him with a look.

            “Okay, old man,” Jean said. “Go take a nap.”

            “Whatever,” I said, going over to the bed and pulling back the curtain to reveal flawlessly tucked-in covers. I pulled them back, toed off my shoes, and removed my coat, dropping the clothing on the ground to be picked up later.

            “Sleep well, princess,” said Eren.

            “Fuck off,” I told him as I climbed into bed and drew the curtains back.

            Noon, huh? Only noon and I already needed a nap. I really was getting old.

            I lifted up my left sleeve and looked down at the numbers on my forearm. 360. Had it really only been five days? It felt like I had been in the castle my entire life.

            I lay down and buried myself under the covers, fleetingly thinking about how Reaper was doing up in his room.


	6. Of Panic Attacks and Palaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reaper passes out and Levi falls in love far too quickly for his liking.

            The next day was far less hectic. The most chaotic part of my day was dealing with a sarcastic and basically bedridden Reaper, and even that wasn’t too terrible. I cleaned the bathroom and tended to Reaper, bringing him food and water when he needed it (he ate and drank voraciously, probably because he used those nutrition spells far too often) and checking to make sure his wound hadn’t opened up again. At the end of the day, once the gouge’s inflammation had gone down completely, I stitched the wound with a needle and thread, both meticulously washed with soap and clean water. He refused any painkillers Eren and I offered him, even when he was panting like a dog from pain as I sewed his injury.

            That night, once everyone was presumably asleep, I went out to the Wastes. I wasn’t sure if I was just taking a walk or if I was there for the girl, but I found myself outside nonetheless. I sat down on the ground, propping myself up by pressing my palms into the dirt behind me. I looked up at the stars and picked out the few constellations I knew, then connected the dots to make random shapes or pictures.

            The girl, surprisingly, showed up several minutes later. Her eyebrows rose when she saw me in the clearing.

            “You came,” she observed. I nodded.

            “I did.”

            “Why?”

            I shrugged.

            “Not too sure.”

            She stared at me for a solid four seconds before coming over to sit beside me.

            “Are you going to teach me how to use the stick thing?” I asked.

            “Not tonight. Probably not for a while.”

            “Why?”

            She shifted one shoulder and winced in spite of herself. My eyes were immediately drawn to her face.

            “Are you hurt?” I asked. She nodded.

            “Yes. And no, you can’t look at it.”

            “How’d it happen?”

            “It wasn’t Reaper, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

            To tell the truth, that was exactly what I had been thinking. Reaper seemed to be a little too sure of his sister’s actions and decisions, almost like they were his own. I felt that he was far too controlling of her.

            “He’s very controlling of you,” I voiced. She chuckled and shook her head.

            “No. He just seems that way because he knows me so well.”

            I hummed, falling silent as I looked back up at the clear night sky.

            “Are you from Market Chipping?” the girl asked beside me. I looked over at her and found that she was gazing up at the stars.

            “Did Reaper tell you about our little introduction?”

            She chuckled again.

            “He might have left out a few details.”

            “Yes, I’m from Market Chipping. I lived there with my mother and sisters.”

            She nodded.

            “Reaper goes to Market Chipping a lot,” she said. “He says it’s quaint.” I shrugged.

            “It’s alright. Nothing like Kingsbury or Porthaven, though.”

            “He’s also said that.”

            “From where do you and your brother hail?” I asked. She stiffened and winced when she shifted her shoulder. “Do you not want to-“

            “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Just a little unexpected.”

            “How is it unexpected? Conversations are generally give and take like that.”

            “Okay, smartass. It’s because I’m used to asking the questions. No one ever questions me because I don’t do anything.”

            I hummed.

            “We hail from Kingsbury,” she answered me, much less harsh this time. “We lived there with our father until I was thirteen, then he brought me out here.”

            “Why are you both out here instead of back in Kingsbury?”

            “We still kind of are in Kingsbury.”

            “You know what I mean.”

            She sighed.

            “It’s complicated,” she said. “I’d rather not get into it.”

            “I’ve got all night.”

            “I said I’d rather not get into it,” she snapped. I was taken aback, and it must have shown. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Levi. I just-“

            “It’s okay,” I said. “God knows I’d rather not talk about why I’m not in Market Chipping.”

            “I’ve got all night.”

            “Fuck off.”

            She laughed and threw her head back, exposing the pale arch of her throat. When she brought her head back down her blue eyes were sparkling with restrained laughter. I swallowed.

            “Tell me something else about yourself,” she said.

            “Why do you want to know?”

            “Because I find other people’s lives infinitely interesting. Now spill.”

            What could I tell her? It wasn’t like I couldn’t go into intimate details about my curse, and that was probably the most interesting thing about me. She probably had all these incredible stories about Reaper’s magical adventures and all I had was…

            “I spent five years in the military,” I said. She stiffened again. “Don’t worry. The perfect Ingary bullshit didn’t rub off on me.”

            “I’m more concerned that you’re still working under the crown.”

            “Your brother said that I was too uncouth to be working for the government.”

            She tried to shrug but ended up groaning instead. She brought her opposite arm up and almost rubbed her shoulder. She must have thought better of it, because she lowered her arm back to her side.

            “You and Reaper have matching wounds,” I commented. She huffed out a little laugh.

            “You could say that, yeah. When he gets off his lazy ass tomorrow I’ll have him heal me.”

            “I just wish he could heal himself so I wouldn’t have to take care of him.”

            She laughed again.

            “I think he’s going to have Eren rub some Policia Faire on his wound so that he can reach around and heal himself, and then he’ll heal me.”

            “Sounds like a plan.”

            We were silent for a few moments. Then:

            “Tell me something else,” she said.

            I ended up telling her everything I could that night. I told her about how my father had died when I was thirteen and how I the family had taken over the hat shop in his absence. I told her about how I hated trimming hats with a passion, despite my skill. I told her that I’d had a cat when I was small. I told her that I had been honorably discharged from the military as a result of a torn ligament in my leg. I told her how housework came naturally to me. I told her how I felt more at home at the castle after six days than I had in Market Chipping after thirty-one years.

            By the time I was done the sun was starting to come up. I had no idea that I had so much to tell.

            The girl smiled at me and pushed herself up to standing.

            “I’d offer you a hand up, but…”

            “Yeah.”

            I stood up by myself and looked down at the girl. She really was shorter than me, if only by a couple of inches.

            “Thank you, Levi,” she said.

            “I should be the one thanking you. I had no idea I had so much in me.”

            She shook her head and smiled at her feet.

            “Think what you like.”

            She looked over at the horizon, at the orange-pink sun peeking over the hill. She raised one hand and shaded her eyes.

            “We should be getting back to the castle. Reaper should be awake soon.”

            I nodded and followed her as she began walking towards the heap of metal. She suddenly stopped and turned to me, something unreadable on her face.

            “Don’t tell Eren about me. He doesn’t know,” she said. “He’s… he’s scared of women. The only grown woman he’s not terrified of is his sister.”

            I was suddenly transported to the previous day (or two days previously, now that it was morning) when the boy and I had gone to the Porthaven market. Whenever he passed a woman he would shiver. I had passed it off that day, but I understood it now. No wonder he had been so gruff.

            I nodded again and she continued on her way, me right behind her. When we got into the castle Jean greeted us, looking excitedly between me and the girl.

            “Did you figure it out, Levi?” he asked. The girl shot him a glare.

            “Shut up, flame brain,” she said.

            “Hey! Only Eren gets to call me that!’ exclaimed the fire demon from the hearth.

~

            This routine went on for a solid month: I would get up, sometimes go to the market in Porthaven, do housework for the majority of the day, cook dinner, read a book until it was dark, and then go outside to talk to the girl for an hour or so. We never did spend as much time talking as we did the first night, but that was probably for the best; I had been exhausted the day after that first night, almost too exhausted to see 360 turn into 359 on my arm.

            The girl eventually got around to teaching me how to use her stick – Bo staff, she called it. It was fairly simple but harder than she made it look, and I sustained my fair share of minor sprains and bruises from the thing. I wasn’t the best at it, but I could defend myself if need be. I joked that I could always end a fight with a swift kick to the nuts. She always said that you had to get too close to your opponent to kick them, that the Bo staff was safer. I would point out my bruises and she would say that it was safer for someone half-decent at using it.

            Reaper healed fairly quickly. He only stayed in the castle for about a week before he was back to his usual routine, disappearing during the day and never showing himself at night. I took the stitches out within two weeks of putting them in despite his protests that he wanted them out sooner. He had managed to magically heal himself, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

            The days passed relatively quickly that month, and I found myself forgetting completely about my purpose for being there. Jean never let me forget for too long, always prodding me to see if I’d “figured it out yet.” Whenever I shook my head he would give an exhausted sigh and stare at me with tired eyes.

            No more bombs in Porthaven, no more obvious and life-threatening wounds on Reaper (only minor, self-inflicted scratches), and only news of battles (I had taken up reading the newspaper on Sunday mornings, despite my disinterest in current events) that were too far away to have much impact on me. The days passed quietly, something for which I was grateful.

            At least, they passed quietly until the invitations came.

~

            The invitations came on the same day, a Tuesday in March. There was a knock on the Porthaven door first. Eren came sailing down the stairs from his room, donned his disguise, and opened the door, ready to greet a customer. What he got instead were two guards bearing an envelope.

            “Is this the Wizard Jenkins’ residence?” asked one of the guards. He had a bushy mustache not unlike that of the guard who had tried to assault me in Market Chipping.

            “It is,” Eren said in his fake old man voice. “What can I do for you?”

            The guard with the mustache handed Eren the envelope, a parchment-like manila-colored thing with a red wax seal.

            “It is with great pleasure that the king invites the Wizard Jenkins to his palace.”

            Eren’s hand shook slightly, and I wasn’t sure if he was putting it on as part of his disguise or if he was genuinely nervous.

            “Thank you, good sirs,” he said.

            “Good day,” the other guard said. Eren closed the door and leaned against it, pulling down his hood.

            “Not good?” I asked from my place at the hearth. I had been sweeping the ashes from Jean’s fireplace into a sheet on the floor.

            “Not good,” Eren affirmed.

            There was suddenly another knock, this time at the Kingsbury door, according to Jean. Eren sighed, tossed the envelope over the railing so that it landed on the ground floor, pulled up his hood, and opened the door to Kingsbury.

            Once again, there were two guards, both of whom had neatly-groomed mustaches but no beards. One held a parchment scroll tied with a red ribbon.

            “Is this the Wizard Pendragon’s residence?” asked the blonde guard.

            “It is,” Eren said, fake old man voice intact.

            “It is with great pleasure that the king invites the Wizard Pendragon to his palace.”

            Eren stuck out his hand and took the scroll offered to him.

            “Thank you, good sirs,” he said.

            “Good day.”

            Eren closed the door and whipped off his disguise. He looked frazzled.

            “Even worse?” I asked.

            “Even worse.”

            He came up the stairs and picked up the envelope from the floor, putting both the envelope and the scroll at what had become Reaper’s place at the table.

            “This is bad,” Jean mused. “How is he going to report to the palace as both Pendragon and Jenkins? How is he going to-“

            The fire demon cut himself off and took a deep breath.

            “Never mind,” he said.

            “No, you have to tell us now,” said Eren.

            Jean looked pleadingly towards me. I turned around.

            “Fuck you, Levi! I’m trying to help you out and this is what I get in return?”

            Eren shook his head.

            “Never mind, guys,” he said. “What we’ve got to worry about now is figuring out how to get Reaper to show up at the palace as two people.”

            “Does he even have to go?” I asked, tying the opposite ends of the sheet together. “They said he was invited, not summoned.”

            “It might as well be a summons,” Jean said.

            I hummed in thought but could come up with nothing.

            The door dinged and, to my surprise, Reaper walked in.

            “Reaper!” Eren called upon seeing the man. He looked haggard but unhurt.

            “Eren!” Reaper called back sarcastically. The joke went right over the green-eyed boy’s head.

            “Bad news,” said Eren. “You’ve been summoned to the palace. As both Pendragon _and_ Jenkins.”

            Reaper’s eyes went wide.

            “Are you sure?” he asked lowly. “Because I don’t want to get worked up over it if you’re not sure.”

            “Guards came to the storefronts today. They gave me those.” He gestured to the scroll and envelope on the table. Reaper went immediately to the table and unrolled the scroll, quickly reading the black-inked words written there. He then set it down and flicked open the envelope’s wax seal, unfolding the paper and reading its contents. When he was done he looked even paler than usual, almost like he had when he’d lost so much blood.

            He gently placed the paper back on the table and sat down, resting his head in his hands. Then, against all odds, he started laughing.

            “ _He’s found me, Jean_ ,” he laughed almost maliciously. “ _Smith found me_.”

            “Who is Smith?” I asked.

            “I think he’s the King’s head sorcerer and the head of the Royal Sorcery Academy.”

            Reaper’s laughter became absolutely crazed, hands shaking as he fisted his hair. Jean’s face twisted into an expression of fear and worry.

            “Guys,” he said, speaking to Eren and me, “this isn’t good.”

            Reaper’s breath was beginning to come out in short, quick pants.

            “What’s going on?” Eren asked.

            “He’s having a panic attack, you imbecile! Ever heard of ‘em?” Jean shot back.

            “Well, _excuse_ me, princess-“

            “Shut the fuck up, both of you,” I said, walking over to the hyperventilating wizard and attempting to rub his back.

            “Don’t do that!” called Jean. I stopped my hand just inches from Reaper’s body. “Don’t touch him during an attack.”

            “How else are we going to get him to snap out of it, then?” I asked.

            “You just have to give him time and space,” said the fire demon. “He hasn’t had one of these since Eren came around, so I don’t know how long it’s going to last.”

            Eren and I looked at each other for a moment before I stepped back from Reaper’s form, hunched over in his chair and shaking with his ragged breathing. I glanced over at the cabinets when an idea hit me.

            “What about a sedative?” I asked. “Would that help?”

            “It… might,” Reaper managed to groan out. His hands were shaking rapidly, almost like he was receiving a long, continuous electrical shock.

            “What should I use?” Eren asked, walking over to a cabinet, and opening the glass door.

            “Longada,” rasped Reaper. His breathing was becoming more labored and I feared he would keel over at any second.

            Eren nodded and grabbed a glass vial from the cabinet, rushing over to where Reaper was hunched in his chair. He uncorked the vial and almost handed it to the wizard.

            “Hands… shaking too hard,” Reaper managed. Eren nodded again and tilted his mentor’s head back, tipping a small amount of viscous purple liquid into Reaper’s mouth.

            The result was almost instant. Reaper’s shaking subsided and he sagged even farther into himself, obviously exhausted. Eren corked the vial and went to place it back in the cabinet. Reaper fell to the floor, crumpled in a huge heap.

            “Oh God,” said Eren. “I’ve killed him!”

            “He’s alive, dickwad. He’s just passed out. With Longada and a panic attack within two minutes of each other I can’t say I blame him,” Jean said without real malice.

            I walked over to the unconscious man and attempted to pick him up, but he was too awkward to handle by myself. I called Eren over to me and he grabbed the wizard’s other arm, tucking his head under the armpit and hoisting him up. I took the other side and, together, we managed to heft him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

            Three hours found me sitting at Reaper’s bedside, book in hand and eyes flitting between the pages and the wizard’s sleeping face. His chest rose and fell, deep and easy, with each breath he took. His breath suddenly hitched and his face scrunched up. I put my book face-down on the floor and leaned my elbows on my knees.

            “You finally decide to wake up?” I asked him. He blinked several times before bringing his hands up to cradle his forehead.

            “ _Oh my God_ ,” he groaned, obviously in pain from a headache. “What happened?”

            “You had a panic attack and then passed out when Eren gave you a sedative,” I answered.

            He looked over at me and sighed.

            “Right,” he said. “I have to report to the palace.”

            I was silent for a few moments, then I dared to ask the question he was probably dreading the most.

            “Why do you have to report to the palace?”

            He sighed again.

            “There’s a war going on, Levi,” he said. “I’ve witnessed it firsthand, and it’s nothing like the papers are making it out to be. There’s no diplomacy going on. It’s just the Ingarian king bombing the shit out of the neighboring kingdom. Wholesale warfare against a virtually defenseless country. What the king wants is for all the wizards in Ingary to join forces and help attack. Something about keeping Ingary safe despite the fact that those bombs in Porthaven Harbor were about as severe of an attack as the neighboring kingdom can manage.”

            “If you’re so against joining with the king, why go? Just refuse to show up.”

            “You were in the military. You know what the king’s like. He won’t take no for an answer. He’ll terrorize this little family we have here until I give in and turn myself into a monster for him.”

            He looked over at his desk.

            “Besides,” he murmured. “I signed a binding document when I entered the Royal Sorcery Academy. Worst decision of my life.”

            I nodded and remained silent. Reaper also fell silent, sighing deeply and tightening his fists in the bedsheets. Then, suddenly, his eyes flew open wide.

            “I have an idea,” he said. “But I need your help.”

            I looked wearily at the wizard, but relented anyway.

            “Fine,” I sighed. “What do you want?”

            “You have to go to the palace for me,” he said.

            “What? No fucking way.”

            “Say you’re my brother and that I’m such a lazy son of a bitch that I’d be completely useless to the crown.”

            “I’m not doing your dirty work for you.”

            “Just go as Pendragon. I’ll go as Jenkins and convince them of the same thing.”

            He looked at me so pleadingly that I was almost moved. Almost.

            “Nope,” I said, standing up. “Call for me if you need me.”

            “Wait, Levi! Please!”

            “Nope,” I repeated. I walked to the door and left, not looking back.

~

            That night, as per our routine, I found myself outside talking to the girl. She seemed slightly disgruntled that night, and I knew why.

            After a long silence I finally spoke about it.

            “What do you think I should do about going to the palace?” I asked.

            She sighed.

            “I think you should do it.”

            “Why?”

            “I… I know the king as well, and I know that he’ll never let up as long as Reaper refuses to show up. And Pendragon and Jenkins both have to show up on the same day so as not to arouse suspicion, so there’s really no other way.”

            “Are you just saying that to protect your brother?”

            “No,” she said quickly. “Like I said, the king won’t let up, and that means death threats to Reaper and everyone else in the castle.”

            I looked over at her. I was immediately struck by the way the moonlight highlighted her black hair, how it lit on that scar, how it shone in her eyes. Her collar was slightly disheveled from our training earlier, revealing that long pale neck and one collar bone with a skinny scar running across it. It suddenly dawned on me that the girl was pretty. Gorgeous, even.

            “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll do it.”

            She jerked her head towards me, pale eyes wide. My heart skipped a beat in my chest and the only thing I could think was “oh no.”

            It happened all at once. One moment she was just this kid sitting next to me and the next she was the most exquisite creature I’d ever laid eyes on. One moment she was something akin to my best friend and the next I wanted to kiss her. One moment she held a long stick in her hands, and the next she held my heart.

            “Really?” she asked. I nodded.

            “Really.”

            Her face lit up and my heart did that beat-skipping thing again. She moved to give me a hug but seemed to think better of it, recoiling almost as if she’d been stung.

            “Sorry,” she said. “Thank you so much, Levi.”

            I found myself wishing she’d hugged me or touched me in some goddamn way. I felt like I’d just been fucked over by the universe, and then I realized that I had been – not in that she didn’t touch me, but in that I was now helplessly attracted to this young girl.

            She was a young girl. I was thirty-one and probably wouldn’t live to be thirty-three.

            “I would say there wasn’t a problem, but I’m actually a little pissed off that I have to do this.”

            She laughed and it sounded like bells.

            I was _so_  fucked.


	7. A Visit to the Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi goes to the palace.

            The day of the palace visit arrived much sooner than I would have liked. I got up, made breakfast for Eren and myself, ate it, and was in the process of changing into my spare clothes (they were nicer than the ones I had left Market Chipping in) when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

            “What?” I called.

            “It’s me,” Reaper’s voice came through the door.

            “Let me repeat that. What?”

            “I wanted to use some magic to make your clothes nicer.”

            “My clothes are nice enough, thank you.”

            “Let me see them when you’re done changing.”

            I only had to zip up my trousers, so I did that and then opened the door. He gave me a once-over before nodding.

            “You’re right,” he said. “Nice enough.”

            “Thank you, oh benevolent god,” I said dryly, walking around the wizard and going downstairs. He followed me. Once I was on the ground floor I walked over to the door and twisted the colored wheel to Kingsbury’s color.

            Before I could walk outside Reaper was around me, enveloping me in warmth. It was… nice? I guessed. I probably should have found it slightly creepy, or at least odd. But then he slid something onto my finger. I looked down and saw that he’d slipped a ring onto my pointer finger. I glanced back at the wizard.

            “I hope this isn’t your idea of a proposal,” I scoffed.

            “Like I’d go for you.”

            “I am way out of your league, Reaper.”

            He stepped back and ascended two stairs.

            “So you are. That ring is just a good luck charm,” he said. “So good luck. I’ll follow behind you in disguise.”

            I nodded.

            “Good to know.”

            With that I left, waving goodbye to Eren and Jean behind Reaper.

            Kingsbury was huge. I’d never gone more than several steps into the city, so the place was overwhelming when I walked into it for the first time. It took me at least half an hour simply to get to the palace square.

            The palace square itself was overly grand – some might have called it opulent, but I would have called it ostentatious. There were marble statues of past rulers, gleaming white obelisks pointing to the sky, green squares of grass and blooming crepe myrtle trees, and huge crowds of extravagantly-dressed people. There were green-uniformed guards posted everywhere, as well as a few giving demonstrations and free rides on little personal flying machines. The walkway was granite, the sky was dotted with cotton ball clouds and personal airships, and the people were loud. I quickly noted that this might have been why Reaper and his sister had left the city.

            “Step right up for an air tour of the palace grounds!” a guard called out to a crowd of excited people. He stooped and helped a woman in a large yellow dress onto the airship and took off, the woman squealing with glee as she sat in the stationary chair.

            I fleetingly wondered if that was Reaper in disguise, but quickly realized that a guard was far too public a disguise for a man such as him. As I walked down the pathway towards the palace I saw pigeons (possibly, but they would be unable to enter the palace) and a stray cat (again, wouldn’t be let into the palace). Then I heard a small huff behind me.

            I turned around and saw nothing, so I kept walking. Then I heard it again. This time I looked down to see a small but ragged-looking dog walking beside me, looking straight ahead as if it didn’t want to arouse suspicion.

            “ _Reaper?_ ” I asked. The dog hesitated before huffing again. I almost groaned. “You couldn’t have picked something more useful?”

            Another huff, this time something close to indignant. I considered kicking him but thought better of it.

            Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark face, purple body, and a top hat. I turned my head to see a shit monster in those strange clothes. It carried two handles in its blobby hands, handles which were connected to a handheld carriage of sorts. Two other handles were attached to the other end and held by another shit monster. The curtain of the carriage was pulled aside and the entire window was taken up by the large face of the Witch of the Wastes.

            “ _You_ ,” I seethed, almost feeling the number on my arm.

            “Well if it isn’t the little boy from the hat shop,” she cackled loudly. “Tell me, how has Reaper been treating you?”

            “Much better than you ever did, that’s for damn sure,” I spat. She cackled again and I wanted to punch her in her bulbous throat.

            “How did he like my little letter?” she asked.

            “He got rid of it very quickly.”

            “That’s very old magic. He can’t have gotten rid of it completely.”

            “I’d like to get rid of _you_ completely but that’s slightly illegal.”

            “Still plucky as ever,” she said, adjusting her glasses. The desire to hit her was growing stronger by the minute.

            “What are you even doing here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be terrorizing civilians somewhere? Kicking puppies? Starting fires?”

            “I received a personal invitation by Erwin Smith, the king’s head sorcerer.”

            “Congratulations. You’re not special.”

            By this time we had reached the archway denoting the beginning of the palace grounds. As the shit monsters passed over the seam in the ground an electrical buzz could be heard. The tar-like creatures crumpled to the floor and the Witch poked her head out of the window.

            “What’s going on here?” she barked.

            “I’m sorry, madam,” said an apologetic guard, “but magical transportation is strictly prohibited beyond this point. You’ll have to proceed on foot.”

            The Witch’s face contorted into rage and then quickly (forcefully) mellowed out. She took a deep breath and retreated back inside her carriage, then stepped out, revealing her tall, fatty form clothed in the same black dress and feathered hat as that night over a month ago. Reaper huffed and continued.

            “Wait up, dipshit,” I said to him, following him quickly. The Witch was right beside me, but she slowed almost imperceptibly with every step she took.

            I took several steps up the front stairs (a behemoth of a marble staircase) before I heard another huff. I turned around to see Reaper with his head resting on the bottom step. He was so small that he couldn’t climb the stairs by himself.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, going back down the stairs and picking up the useless wizard. He huffed contentedly and writhed in my arms so that he could lie on his back. He may have been cute as a dog but I refused to give him a belly rub.

            I managed to make it up the first flight of three without noticing the loud wheezing behind me. I turned around again, this time to see the Witch of the Waste, looking significantly thinner than she had when she had begun her walk, struggling up the stairs. I rolled my eyes.

            “Give me a hand!” she called out. “I’ll make it worth your while!”

            “What’s that? You remembered how to break the curse you put on me?” I called back.

            “I don’t know how to break curses! I’m just good at casting them!”

            “Sorry. I can’t hear you.”

            I turned back around, Reaper still contentedly in my arms, and began climbing the stairs once again.

            Once I reached the landing after the second flight I was slightly winded, having to put a slightly disgruntled Reaper down to catch my breath. It had been too long since I’d been in the military. The Witch was still making her way up the second flight, looking even thinner than before.

            “Please!” called the Witch.

            “I’d help you if I had longer to live. I don’t really want to waste what precious time I have left.”

            She tripped and stumbled up several steps, then looked up to glare at me. Sweat was pouring down her face like a disgusting salty waterfall.

            I looked down at Reaper and bent to pick him up. I began climbing the rest of the stairs.

            Once I was at the top of the stairs I put down the stupid Reaper-dog and watched with honest-to-God glee (though I hid it well) as the Witch struggled up the last flight. When she reached the top she looked significantly different than she had in the carriage, her dress absolutely hanging off of her newly thin body and her hair even more wild under her hat.

            “You’re an evil creature,” she panted at me.

            “Perhaps,” I said. “Not any more evil than someone who cursed me with only a year to live.”

            “Fair enough, you pathetic-“

            “Don’t finish that sentence if you can’t handle the consequences.”

            She shut up.

            We walked through the palace doors, held open by two guards, and listened as a man’s voice announced our arrival.

            “Mr. Pendragon and the Witch of the Wastes!” the voice called.

            “Pendragon?” the Witch wheezed. “Where have I heard that name?”

            There was no way in hell I was giving away one of Reaper’s aliases, so I said the next thing that came to mind.

            “That was the name of my _tacky_ hat shop in Market Chipping,” I said.

            “Was that it?”

            A red carpet led us down the long entrance hall and into a side hall. We reached a room covered in rich curtains, a single wooden chair sitting in the middle. The Witch almost yelled with happiness.

            “A chair!” she exclaimed. “It’s mine!”

            She raced over to the chair, faster than an exhausted woman should have been able to, and sat down, panting wildly.

            I heard a sliding sound and turned to see a panel in the wall had opened up. A young boy with shoulder-length blonde hair and a yellow shirt was standing before me.

            “Would you please follow me, Mr. Pendragon?” he asked kindly. I nodded, giving one last look to the exhausted Witch in the chair.

            I followed the boy down several halls until we reached a large sunny room. The tall ceiling and one wall were made entirely of glass, and the corner from where I entered was a maze of large tropical plants. Near the glass wall were a pale upholstered chair, a small side table, and a blonde man in a red plush wheelchair. Beside him sat a table with a crystal ball resting atop it. There were several more blonde boys in yellow shirts attending to the man.

            The man turned his head to face me. He wore a friendly fake smile.

            “Ah, Mr. Pendragon,” he said. “Please, come. Have a seat.”

            I suddenly noticed that Reaper wasn’t beside me anymore. I saw him sitting underneath the table beside the man, tail wagging slowly. Walking over to the empty chair, I sat down.

            “So, you’re Reaper’s brother?”

            I forced myself not to stiffen. How could he know that Pendragon was Reaper? Did he also know about Jenkins?

            “I am,” I said. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”

            I was never more thankful for the fact that I was pale-skinned and black-haired, because the man didn’t say anything else about it.

            “I can,” he said. “I’m Erwin Smith, His Majesty’s head sorcerer. And this is my assistant, Armin.”

            I was expecting him to point to one of the blonde boys, but instead he gestured towards the dog under the table. My eyes almost widened.

            “He’s your dog?” I asked stupidly. Smith smiled a secret smile into his hand.

            “Something like that. I sent him to escort you here.”

            I sighed, mumbling “ _traitor_.” I couldn’t believe that I’d done all that for a stupid dog that wasn’t even Reaper.

            “I take it that Reaper won’t be joining us?” Smith asked.

            There was my chance.

            “I’m afraid not,” I said evenly. “He’s ridiculously lazy. I could hardly force him to get out of bed this morning. He’s probably back under the covers right now. I don’t think you’d find him very useful.”

            Smith’s smile widened into something akin to malicious. I had to suppress a shiver as I silently cursed Reaper for sending me to that godforsaken palace.

            “I’m very sorry to hear that. Reaper was the last apprentice I ever took on. So talented. I was hoping to see _him_ again today.”

            He fell silent for a few moments, the only sounds in the room being the trickling water of a hidden fall somewhere in the forest of tropical plants by the room’s entrance. Smith breathed in a long breath before speaking again.

            “I’m going to tell you a story, Mr. Pendragon,” he said, folding his hands on his lap. One of his attendants offered him a cup of something and he took it, bringing it to his mouth and taking a careful sip.

            “Do take your time,” I scoffed. He smirked and handed the cup back to the attendant.

            “As I was saying, I’m going to tell you a story,” he said, voice a bit strained. “This is a story about who was perhaps the best pupil I ever took on.”

            “Reaper,” I said.

            “This pupil was a girl. She was the only female student the Royal Sorcery Academy has ever had,” said Smith. “She was one of the youngest, as well. She was only eight when she began her studies. The students who attend the Academy normally have to be eleven to join, and even then their powers are usually quite weak.”

            “But not hers.”

            “Correct, Levi. Not hers. Her abilities upon entry into the Academy were on par with a fourth year student, if not a fifth year. Students only attend the Academy for five years, so that should give you an idea of how strong this child was. I was so excited when she enrolled. I thought I had finally found someone talented enough to replace me. And she was very talented. Talented in both academia and magic, but socially… well, her social skills were lacking. She was very harsh to other students and very impatient. This, as you can imagine, didn’t garner her many friends. No friends, to be quite honest.

            “One day after classes she disappeared,” he continued. “This wasn’t too unusual. Her father was one of the King’s advisors, so she lived with him in downtown Kingsbury rather than in the Academy dormitories. We had assumed that she had gone home, but when she didn’t return the next day for her lessons I began to worry. I checked my crystal ball here.” He patted the glass orb which sat on the table beside his chair. “I can still remember the scene. It was nighttime, and she was in a field somewhere. To this day I don’t know exactly where she was, but she was in a field dotted with misshapen little lakes and colorful flowers. The ground was lit up by the full moon and falling stars. These falling stars weren’t meteors or comets, however; no, these were demons. That particular kind traverses the night sky and then is snuffed out upon contact with earth, and this girl knew it. She had always been so kindhearted, almost to a fault. She felt sorry for those demons. I watched as she raced after one of the stars and miraculously caught it in her outstretched hands. My crystal ball doesn’t permit me to overhear conversations, so I will never know what the demon said to her or what she said to it, but I do know that she brought it up to her mouth and swallowed it. She winced and doubled over before bringing her hands up to her chest. A flaming object fell into her hands, something that was alive and beating. It was then that she ripped out the tracker from her uniform – I have trackers installed in Academy uniforms so that I can watch my pupils via crystal ball – and my ball went black, but I knew what I had seen. My best pupil had just given her heart to a demon. She was only thirteen.”

            “This is all very interesting, but what does this have to do with me or Reaper?” I asked, irritated that a) Smith wasn’t telling me anything useful, and b) Reaper had yet to show up.

            “All in good time, Mr. Pendragon,” he assured me. “After the demon ate her heart my pupil never came back to the Academy. I’ve been trying to get her to come back to complete her last year of training and her apprenticeship – she was the last apprentice I ever took on. She may not need the training, but the kingdom needs _her_.”

            I knew he was hiding something from me. I knew it from that bullshit smile he was pulling, and I didn’t like it.

            “Listen, I’m not really interested in any of your ‘all in good time’ bullshit, so if you could just tell me what I need to know that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

            “From the moment that girl’s heart was stolen she’s been using her magic for entirely selfish reasons,” he said, one of those smiles still tugging on the corner of his mouth. “That girl is extremely dangerous now. Her powers are far too great for someone without a heart, and if she stays selfish I’m afraid that she’ll end up just like the Witch of the Wastes. Bring her in!”

            There were suddenly the loud sounds of fumbling from the maze of plants. A door shut and more fumbling could be heard, as well as little crazed cackles and odd mumblings. Then the Witch of the Waste emerged from the plants, wearing different, smaller clothes. She wore a yellow shirt and a long tan skirt, but what was most different about her was her body. She was no longer bulbous; instead, she was quite thin, with tan skin and glimmering eyes partially hidden behind her square glasses.

            “What did you do to her?” I asked Smith.

            “I just restored her to her natural state. All her powers are gone now,” he said. “Once she too was a magnificent sorceress with so much promise, but then she fell prey to a demon of greed who slowly consumed her, body and soul. Our kingdom can no longer afford to turn a blind eye to these disreputable witches and wizards. If Reaper reports to me and vows to use his powers to help the kingdom I will show him how to break from his own demon.”

            His own demon? Did Smith mean Jean?

            “And if he refuses?” I asked.

            “He’ll strip him of all his powers!” called who had once been the Witch of the Wastes.

            “Is that true? I asked.

            Smith nodded and I broke.

            “That’s e-fucking-nough!” I exclaimed, standing up. “Now I understand why Reaper was upset about having to report to the palace. He had a fucking panic attack when he got the invitation! It’s a trap! You lure people here with an invitation from the king and then you strip them of all their powers. Reaper would never be so heartless. And he's not selfish like you're implying he is. The reason I had to come today was so he could protect the house and our little ragtag family. His intentions are good and almost entirely unselfish. There’s no question about it. He just wants to be free from you people!”

            I took a deep breath as Smith looked at me amusedly.

            “Reaper won’t come here today,” I said. “He doesn’t need your help. He can fix his problem with his demon on his own. And if he can’t then I will.”

            Suddenly the sound of one of those personal airships buzzing overhead came into focus. An airship manned by the king himself landed outside the glass wall. The king walked through the door and came to stand in front of Smith.

            “Your Majesty,” said Smith with a deferential bow of his head.

            “As you were,” the king said. “How are you feeling, Smith?”

            “I’m fine, thank you.”

            “I thought I’d come to see you rather than sit through a dull war meeting.”

            “What an honor.”

            The king turned and looked at me.

            “Who are your guests?” he asked, sending a wink my way.

            I suddenly understood. _This_ was Reaper.

            “This is Mr. Pendragon, Reaper’s brother.”

            He came over to me. I bowed even though I thought my pride would wither up and die.

            “Thank you for coming, but I’ve decided not to use magic to win this war,” Reaper said. “Whenever we magically fortify the palace bombs fall on civilians instead, and I simply can’t have that as the king. It’s my job to protect the citizens, not put them in harm’s way.”

            “You’re so eloquent today, Your Majesty,” Smith said.

            “Erwin Smith!” called a new voice.

            I looked over towards the mess of plants to see the real king standing cheerfully in front of a great banana tree. He walked over to where Smith sat, waving a manila paper all the while.

            “Your Majesty,” Smith said amusedly.

            “I’ve really got ‘em this time! We’re gonna bomb the neighboring kingdom into the stone age!”

            It was then that the king caught sight of Reaper. Instead of calling guards to come take an imposter away, he laughed.

            “Why, Smith, that’s the best double you’ve made of me yet! Keep up the good work!”

            He turned and left, leaving nothing but stupidity and loud footsteps in his wake. Once he was gone Smith turned to Reaper.

            “So nice to see you again, _Reaper_ ,” he said.

            “You’re looking well, Mr. Smith,” Reaper greeted in return.

            “That’s a fairly weak disguise, Reaper. I thought I taught you better.”

            “I wasn’t trying to outwit you. I kept my oath and reported when summoned,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Now my _brother_ and I will be going.”

            “I’m afraid not,” said Smith.

            Smith snapped his fingers and a sea emanated from his thumb, washing out of his hand and curling around Reaper’s and my feet.

            “Let’s show your brother who you really are,” Smith said. “Or _what_ you really are-“

            Reaper’s eyes went wide.

            “ _Zoralee_.”


End file.
